Columbia  (intoergttp 

mtljeCttpofJtetork 

THE  LIBRARIES 


The   Right   Reverend   William    Paret,   D.D.,   LL.D. 
Sixth    Bishop   of   Maryland 


REMINISCENCES 


BY  THE 

Rt.  Rev.  WILLIAM  PARET,  D.D.,  LL.D. 

SIXTH  BISHOP  OF  MARYLAND 


PHILADELPHIA 
GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  &  CO. 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1911,  by 
George  W.  Jacobs  &  Co. 

Published  May,  1911. 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE 

These  '  i  Eemembrances ' '  are  written,  not  with 
any  wish  for  their  being  published, — but  at  the 
earnest  request  of  my  children,  and  of  a  few 
dear  friends.  I  have  tried  to  state  facts  only, 
very  plainly,  avoiding  as  far  as  possible  any 
expression  of  my  own  opinions. 


PREFACE 

In  a  conversation  with  Bishop  Paret  a  few 
days  before  his  departure  on  a  trip  abroad 
in  the  autumn  of  1909,  I  suggested  that  he 
write  for  publication  a  book  of  "Reminis- 
cences" during  his  vacation.  He  demurred 
on  the  ground  that  while  such  a  book  would 
undoubtedly  be  a  source  of  pleasure  and 
gratification  to  his  immediate  family  and 
intimate  friends,  he  feared  it  might  not  be 
of  commensurate  profit  to  others.  I  in- 
sisted, but  he  would  make  no  definite  prom- 
ise. During  his  sojourn  at  Nice,  France,  he 
wrote  me  that  he  had  begun  the  book,  and  I 
wrote  him  renewing  my  request  and  empha- 
sizing it  as  follows:  "I  do  not  agree  with 
you  that  these  Reminiscences  should  not  be 
prepared  for  public  use.  As  I  have  before 
told  you,  in  my  judgment  they  would  not 
only  accomplish  a  great  deal  of  good,  but 
would,  also,  constitute  a  very  important  part 


vi  PREFACE 

of  the  history  of  the  Church  in  the  Diocese 
of  Maryland.  This  is  not  only  my  view,  but 
the  view  of  many  Churchmen  in  the  Diocese 
whose  judgment  you  are  accustomed  to  re- 
spect in  all  other  affairs  ;and  sol  hope  that  in 
the  work  you  are  now  doing  upon  these  Rem- 
iniscences you  will  have  in  mind  at  least  as 
their  ultimate  end,  publication  for  general 
use  ...  as  a  matter  of  self -protection 
you  should  consider  this  view  of  the  case, 
because,  as  you  know,  if  work  of  this  kind 
is  not  done  by  a  man  himself  wThose  life  and 
labor  have  been  such  as  yours,  an  attempt 
at  it  is  made  by  someone  else,  with  a  result 
that  is  generally  disastrous,  and  frequently 
humiliating. ' ' 

This  letter  was  not  without  effect,  and 
upon  his  return  he  placed  the  manuscript  in 
my  hands,  saying:  "I  have  complied  with 
your  wish,  and  found  great  gratification  in 
the  exercise  it  afforded  me.  Here  is  what  I 
have  written.  It  is  purely  from  memory. 
Read  it  at  your  convenience,  and  make  such 
use  of  it  as  you  may  determine.  If  you 
should  decide  to  publish  it  you  will  do  well  to 
have  it  edited  to  the  extent  of  verifying 


PREFACE  vii 

dates,  amounts  and  other  more  minute  par- 
ticulars." 

Upon  reading  the  manuscript  I  found  it 
so  characteristically  natural,  so  pleasing  and 
profitable  withal,  and  containing  so  many 
things  of  personal  and  historical  significance 
to  the  Diocese  of  Maryland,  that  I  decided 
to  publish  it  with  only  the  necessary  revi- 
sion. What  of  the  latter  has  been  done  is 
the  work  of  the  Bishop's  grand-daughter, 
Miss  Emily  Paret  Atwater,  who  served  him 
in  the  capacity  of  private  secretary  for 
many  years,  and  whose  confidential  inti- 
macy with  the  Bishop,  and  perfect  knowl- 
edge of  all  his  affairs,  personal  and  official, 
peculiarly  fitted  her  for  the  task  she  has 
most  lovingly  and  loyally  performed. 

The  influence  of  the  life  and  labor  of 
Bishop  Paret  will  be  felt  in  the  work  of  the 
Church  in  the  Diocese  of  Maryland  for  all 
time.  My  desire  is  that  his  memory  shall 
live  commensurate  with  his  influence.  This 
book,  which  is  a  living  epistle  of  the  man,  is 
published  with  the  hope  that  it  will  find  its 
way  into  every  household  among  us,  and  be 
the  medium  of  transmitting  to  our  children, 


viii  PREFACE 

and  to  our  children's  children,  not  only  the 
name,  but,  also,  something  of  the  wisdom 
and  worth  of  William  Paret,  the  sixth 
Bishop  of  Maryland. 

John  G.  Murray, 
Bishop  of  Maryland. 

Baltimore,  Md.,  March,  1911. 


CONTENTS 

OHAPTEB  PAGE 

Author's  Preface iii 

Preface     v 

Introduction xi 

I    Early  Days  and  School-Life  ....  1 
II    From  the  Twelfth  to  the  Twentieth 

Year 13 

III  From   the   Twentieth   Year — College, 

Ordination,  My  First  Parish  ...  27 

IV  My  Life  at  Pierrepont  Manor    ...  47 
V    From  1864  to  1869 77 

VI    Rectorship  at  Christ's  Church,  Wil- 

liamsport,  Penna.,  1868-1876  ...  95 

VII    From  1876  to  1885  at  Washington  .     .  105 

VIII    As  Bishop  of  Maryland 133 

IX    The  DrvisiON  of  the  Diocese   ....  151 

X    The  DrvisiON  of  the  Diocese  (continued)  157 

XI    The  Church's  Work  for  the  Masses  .  165 

XII    The  Maryland  Theological  Class   .     .  171 

XIII  At  the  Lambeth  Conferences    .     .     .  181 

XIV  Some  Things  Accomplished    ....  195 


INTRODUCTION 

In  sending  out  these  "Keminiscences"  of 
Bishop  Paret  to  the  public,  a  few  explan- 
atory words  may  not  be  out  of  place.  Hav- 
ing been  associated  since  childhood  with  my 
grandfather  as  his  private  secretary,  and 
having  had  some  share  in  the  "  earnest  re- 
quest" for  the  writing  of  the  Reminiscences, 
the  task  of  editing  them  was,  after  his  death, 
entrusted  to  me.  It  was  a  task  reverently 
accepted,  and,  I  hope,  completed  with  im- 
partiality as  well  as  care. 

Although  most  of  the  incidents  related 
have  long  been  familiar  to  me  in  the  form 
in  which  they  are  given,  still,  recognizing 
that  the  book  was  written  entirely  from 
memory,  I  have  tried  to  verify  them,  in  so 
far  as  possible.  In  many  cases,  and  par- 
ticularly with  regard  to  his  early  life  and 
work,  this  was,  of  course,  impracticable,  and 
should  an  occasional  misstatement  be  de- 
tected, I  can  but  crave  the  reader's  indul- 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

gence  by  calling  attention  to  the  Author's 
Preface  in  which  he  states  that  these  "Re- 
membrances" were  not  written  primarily 
with  a  view  to  publication. 

The  work  was  begun  and  finished  during 
the  year  that  Bishop  Paret  spent  abroad, 
following  the  consecration  of  his  coadjutor 
(1909-10),  and  the  manuscript  was  written 
out  entirely  by  hand  in  that  clear  and  beauti- 
ful chirography  so  familiar  to  his  corre- 
spondents. 

Although  this  trip  was  taken  at  his  ex- 
press wish,  and  largely  for  his  own  benefit, 
he  soon  grew  homesick  for  his  diocese,  his 
people,  and  for  his  daily  office  routine.  Too 
infirm  for  much  sight-seeing,  time  hung 
heavy  on  his  hands,  and  so  it  was  that  the 
writing  of  his  Reminiscences,  although  un- 
dertaken with  reluctance,  soon  became  of 
absorbing  interest  to  him.  Far  from  home, 
with  no  books  or  papers  of  any  kind  for  ref- 
erence, these  Reminiscences  of  a  man  eighty- 
four  years  of  age  are  remarkable  for  their 
clearness,  conciseness  and  faithfulness  to  the 
smallest  detail.  Conversational  in  tone,  yet 
pastoral  rather  than  personal,  they  furnish 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

a  far  better  portrait  of  the  author,  both  as  a 
man  and  a  priest,  than  any  words  of  another, 
no  matter  how  laudatory  they  might  be. 

This  pastoral  rather  than  personal  char- 
acter of  the  book  accounts  for  the  omission 
of  much  concerning  his  family  life.  The 
few  such  incidents  mentioned  relate  more  to 
his  ministry  than  to  his  home.  Yet  none 
who  knew  him, — those  nearest  to  him  least 
of  all, — could  doubt  the  deep  tenderness  that 
lay  beneath  his  quiet,  and  often  reserved,  ex- 
terior for  the  members  of  that  home-circle. 
What  he  has  seen  fit  not  to  dwell  upon,  in  the 
more  intimate  relations  of  life,  could  not 
with  propriety  be  supplied  by  another  hand, 
and,  save  for  a  few  brief  notes,  I  have  en- 
deavored to  respect  his  silence. 

It  is  less  easy  to  explain  the  absence  of 
any  but  the  slightest  allusion  to  the  meetings 
of  the  General  Convention.  It  seems  prob- 
able that  Bishop  Paret  may  have  intended 
to  give  a  more  accurate  and  comprehensive 
account  of  the  deliberations  and  legislation 
of  this  Body,  with  which  he  was  so  long  and 
so  closely  associated,  than  could  have  been 
done  from  memory,  and  so  left  the  whole 


xiv  INTRODUCTION 

subject  practically  untouched  until  his  re- 
turn home. 

But  that  home  coming  was  to  be  a  very 
sad  one,  and  any  additions  to  the  Reminis- 
cences that  he  may  have  planned  were  never 
made.  Mrs.  Paret's  health  had  begun  to 
fail  in  the  preceding  summer,  and  soon  after 
their  return  to  Baltimore,  in  September, 
1910,  she  was  taken  to  the  Johns  Hopkins 
Hospital,  where  she  passed  to  her  rest  on 
the  15th  of  January,  1911. 

The  illness  and  suffering  of  his  devoted 
wife  cast  a  cloud  over  her  husband's  life  that 
was  not  to  be  lifted.  Leaving  the  more  ar- 
duous part  of  his  work  to  him  whom  he  so 
affectionately  calls  his  " Brother  Bishop,' 9 — 
he  resumed  some  of  his  official  duties,  and, 
in  the  hope  of  diversion,  spent  many  hours  at 
his  desk.  But  his  anxiety  told  on  his 
health,  an  attack  of  la  grippe  developed  into 
pneumonia,  and  without  knowing  that  his 
beloved  wife  had  two  days  before  preceded 
him, — he  entered  upon  his  reward  January 
18th,  1911,  in  the  84th  year  of  his  age,  and 
the  26th  year  of  his  Episcopate.  His  clear 
and  vigorous  mind  remained  unclouded  to 


INTRODUCTION  xv 

the  last,  and  the  sense  of  humor,  so  strongly 
discernible  in  the  Reminiscences,  never  de- 
serted him.  Almost  his  last  conscious  act 
was  a  participation  in  the  Holy  Communion ; 
and  death  found  him  calm  and  unafraid. 
To  him  the  words  of  St.  Paul  seem  pecul- 
iarly fitting:  "I  have  fought  a  good  fight,  I 
have  finished  my  course,  I  have  kept  the 
Faith." 

In  concluding,  the  editor  wishes  to  ex- 
press her  grateful  appreciation  for  much 
valuable  assistance  given  in  the  editing  of 
the  Reminiscences  by  the  Rt.  Rev.  John  G. 
Murray,  D.D.,  Bishop  of  Maryland,  the  late 
Rev.  Dr.  Eccleston,  one  or  two  others  of  the 
clergy  of  Maryland,  and  to  Mr.  Lawrence  C. 
Wroth,  Librarian  of  the  Maryland  Diocesan 
Library. 

Emily  Paret  Atwater. 

Baltimore,  Md.?  March,  1911. 


EARLY  DAYS  AND  SCHOOL-LIFE 


REMINISCENCES 

CHAPTER  I 

EAELY  DAYS  AND  SCHOOL-LIFE 

I  was  born  in  the  City  of  New  York  on  the 
23rd  day  of  September,  1826. 

My  grandfather  was  Stephen  Paret,  from 
Prance,  the  hamlet  of  Latour  near  Serillac, 
in  the  department  of  Correze  in  France. 
He  left  his  home  as  a  soldier  in  the  French 
Army, — serving  for  a  time  in  South  Amer- 
ica,— but  after  his  service  found  his  way  to 
New  York  City  where  he  became  a  success- 
ful merchant. 

His  son,  John  Paret,  was  my  father. 

My  mother's  maiden  name  was  Hester 
Levi.  Of  her  ancestry,  I  know  only  that  she 
was  of  Jewish  origin. 

The  home  of  my  parents  was  on  Green- 
wich Street  (No.  221),  near  Barclay  Street. 
It  is  now  all  given  up  to  business,  chiefly 


2  REMINISCENCES 

wholesale,  but  was  then  a  place  of  pleasant 
family  homes. 

Though  not  the  eldest  born,  the  death  of 
an  older  brother  made  me,  while  yet  in  early 
childhood,  the  oldest  living  son  in  a  family 
of  twelve  children.  Remembrances  of  those 
earliest  days  are  very  few  and  indistinct. 
One  incident  comes  back  vividly.  When  I 
was  about  four  years  old,  before  I  had  been 
to  school,  or  had  received  any  lessons,  my 
mother  found  me  one  clay,  seated  on  the 
floor,  with  a  book  in  my  lajD  and  my  hands. 
To  her  question, — "What  are  you  doing, 
William'?"  I  answered,  "I  am  reading." 
" Nonsense,  child,"  she  said,  "you  can't 
read;  let  me  see  if  your  book  is  not  upside 
down."  But  it  proved  to  be  right  side  up. 
"What  book  is  it?"  was  her  next  question; 
and  I  gave  the  name  rightly.  Amazed,  she 
asked,  "Do  you  really  mean  that  you  can 
read  %  Let  me  hear  you  read  on  that  page." 
And  I  read,  where  she  pointed,  several  lines, 
clearly  and  distinctly.  It  always  remained 
to  her  and  to  the  others  a  problem  of  won- 
der, how  I  learned  my  letters  and  the  use  of 
wrords.     But  I  am  quite  confident  that  I  have 


REMINISCENCES  3 

the  explanation.  My  two  sisters,  one  of 
them  two  years,  and  one  five  years  older 
than  myself,  were  in  the  habit  of  studying 
their  lessons  in  the  large  room  where  I  was 
free  to  stay  and  play.  The  younger  sister 
was  just  learning  to  read;  and  I  think  that 
by  watching  and  listening  I  must  have 
caught  unconsciously  much  that  they  were 
getting  by  careful  labor;  and  my  love  for 
reading  and  books  became  strong. 

My  father  had  an  excellent,  though  small, 
collection  of  books;  and  before  I  was  ten 
years  of  age  I  had  gone  through  almost  all 
of  them.  At  eleven  years  I  had  read  all  of 
Shakespeare,  Anquetil's  Universal  History 
in  seven  volumes,  much  of  Byron,  much  of 
Scott,  and  was  able  to  repeat,  from  memory, 
the  "Lady  of  the  Lake"  from  beginning  to 
end.  This  love  of  books  and  reading  never 
left  me.  It  had  much  to  do  in  determining 
the  course  of  my  after  life. 

When  little  more  than  six  years  old,  I  was 
sent  to  a  boarding  school  in  Connecticut,  at 
South  Farms,  about  four  miles  from  Litch- 
field. There  were  no  railroads  in  that  di- 
rection ;  and  I  remember  well  the  very  slow 


4  REMINISCENCES 

journeys  in  the  clumsy  small  steamboat  to 
Bridgeport  or  Norwalk,  whence  we  took  an 
old-fashioned  stage  coach,  hung  on  straps 
and  swinging  wildly.  It  was  almost  or  quite 
an  all  day's  ride.  The  master  of  the  school 
was  Mr.  Samuel  M.  Ensign.  Just  across 
the  green  was  the  Congregational  Meeting 
House  (they  did  not  call  it  church),  where 
we  all  had  to  go  on  Sundays  under  charge  of 
Miss  Ensign,  the  Master's  sister.  Of  the 
worship  or  the  preaching  I  can  remember 
nothing.  But  I  well  remember  the  dreary 
coldness;  for  there  were  no  stoves  or 
fires  in  the  church.  We  carried  two  or 
three  little  foot-warmers  containing  ashes 
and  coals,  one  for  Miss  Ensign,  and  two  for 
the  boys  to  use  in  turn.  And  to  keep  us 
awake  and  out  of  mischief  she  occasionally 
passed  around  cookies  and  fennel  seeds. 

By  the  old-fashioned  reckoning  of  those 
days,  each  day  began  not  in  the  morning, 
but  at  sunset.  The  Master's  father  (old 
man  Ensign,  we  called  him)  would  take  his 
chair  on  the  green  before  the  house,  on  Sat- 
urday evening  about  fifteen  minutes  before 
sunset;  and  while  we  were  at  our  free  and 


REMINISCENCES  5 

noisy  games  he  was  watching  the  sun.  Pres- 
ently he  would  give  warning,  "  Almost  sun- 
set ;"  but  we  played  on,  until  in  a  loud,  clear 
voice  he  shouted,  " Sundown!"  and  instantly 
play  stopped,  noise  gave  way  to  stillness,  and 
Saturday  faded  suddenly  into  Sunday. 

The  order  was  reversed  the  next  evening ; 
again  "old  man  Ensign"  was  in  his  chair  on 
the  green.  The  boys,  not  daring  to  be 
noisy,  gathered  around  him,  eager  for  their 
freedom.  "Sundown  yet?"  we  would  ask, 
and  his  answer  would  be  "not  quite;"  till 
at  last,  as  we  watched,  he  gave  the  word, 
"Sundown,"  and  with  our  yells  and  shouts 
of  play,  Sunday  broke  instantly  into  Mon- 
day. 

Of  the  incidents  of  school  life  I  have  re- 
tained very  few.  I  was  there  in  the  year 
1833,  at  the  time  of  the  great  shower  of 
"Shooting  Stars."  The  people  of  the 
neighborhood  thought  that  the  last  day  had 
come;  and  our  schoolmaster  shared  that 
thought,  so  we  were  all  waked  out  of  sleep 
and  taken  into  the  larger  room  for  a  prayer 
meeting  of  half  an  hour.  Another  incident 
was  strongly  fixed  in  my  mind  by  ten  weeks 


6  REMINISCENCES 

of  childhood's  suffering.  We  had  ginger 
cookies,  one  apiece,  on  Sundays  only.  My 
cousin,  John  Dunkin,  at  school  with  me,  had 
found  and  taken  a  robin's  nest  with  four 
young  birds.  I  bought  one  of  the  birds, 
promising  to  pay  ten  cookies,  one  each  Sun- 
day. Alas !  in  three  days  my  bird  was  dead, 
but  John  remorselessly  insisted  on  full  pay- 
ment. So  for  ten  weeks  I  had  to  pocket  my 
cookie  at  the  table  and  carry  it  out  and 
watch  while  he  ate  it  without  giving  me  a 
crumb. 

I  have  a  memorial  of  those  school  days  in 
a  letter  written  from  school  to  my  mother, 
when  I  was  about  eight  years  old.  She  care- 
fully kept  it,  and  gave  it  to  me  some  fifty 
years  later.     It  was  as  follows : 

"Dear  Mother, — 

"Your  kind  letter  with  one  to  Mrs.  En- 
sign was  duly  received  from  which  I  was 
pleased  to  hear  that  my  dear  parents  brother 
and  sisters  were  alive  and  well.  When  I 
think  of  you  I  feel  sorry  for  John  who  can 
never  again  see  his  parents  or  receive  from 
them  their  kind  embraces.    I  am  studying 


REMINISCENCES  7 

History  from  which  I  learn  that  it  is  a  nar- 
rative of  the  events  which  have  taken  place 
in  the  world  it  sets  before  us  striking  in- 
stances of  virtue  heroism  and  patriotism  it 
opens  the  hidden  springs  of  human  affairs 
and  by  the  principle  of  emulation  it  incites 
us  to  copy  such  noble  examples  by  present- 
ing us  with  the  vicious  ultimately  overtaken 
and  punished  for  their  crimes  it  also  has  an 
important  connection  with  Theology  which 
teaches  the  perfections  of  God  and  the  duty 
which  we  owe  to  him.  I  would  write  more  if 
I  could  but  I  have  not  any  time.  Mr.  En- 
sign told  me  to  tell  you  that  I  have  wrote  12 
letters  but  he  would  not  let  any  of  them  go 
because  they  were  blotted  I  remain 
"Your  Affectionate 

"Son  William  Paret." 

It  was  evidently  not  entirely  original.  I 
do  not  think  it  was  dictated  to  me,  but  prob- 
ably giving  the  substance  of  something 
fresh  in  my  mind  from  some  book  I  was 
studying. 

I  do  not  think  I  could  have  remained  at 
that  school  more  than  two  years ;  because  at 


8  BEMINISCENCES 

nine  or  ten,  I  was  again  in  New  York  City, 
attending  the  Grammar  School  of  Columbia 
College  on  Murray  Street.  There  I  completed 
the  full  English  and  French  course,  but  did 
not  take  Latin  or  Greek,  it  being  my  father's 
purpose  to  put  me  into  business  life  as  soon 
as  possible.  Among  the  teachers  I  remem- 
ber most  kindly  Prof.  Henry  Drisler  who 
afterwards  became  a  famous  scholar;  and 
very  unkindly,  Prof.  Charles  Anthon,  then 
Professor  of  Latin  and  Greek  in  the  Col- 
lege. He  taught  us  not  mentally,  but  phys- 
ically, in  his  use  of  the  rattan. 

During  those  Grammar  School  days  my 
relations  with  my  father  were  very  helpful 
and  pleasant.  He  was  an  enthusiastic  fish- 
erman, and  had  his  jDrivate  boathouse  on  the 
wharf  at  or  near  the  foot  of  Barclay  Street. 
Every  pleasant  Saturday,  or  other  day  free 
from  school,  he  would  take  me  with  him  for 
a  fishing  trip  in  or  near  the  harbor ;  at  Ellis 's 
Island  or  Governor's  Island,  or  Eobbin's 
Eeef  or  the  Kill  von  Kull ;  and  so  began  the 
love  for  fishing  which  clung  to  me  all  my 
life.  But  it  was  not  in  fishing  only  that  we 
were  brought  close.    As  I  was  one  evening 


KEMINISCENCES  9 

reading  the  daily  paper,  I  turned  to  him  and 
asked,  "  Father,  what  does  the  inside  of  a 
theater  look  like  ?  "  i  ■  What  a  question ! ' '  he 
answered.  ' '  Don 't  you  know  V  "  Certainly 
not,"  I  said,  "I  have  never  been  in  a  the- 
ater.'?  A  few  days  after,  on  my  coming 
from  school,  my  mother  told  me  to  put  on 
my  Sunday  clothes,  because  my  father 
wanted  me  to  go  out  with  him  in  the  even- 
ing. And  he  took  me  to  the  famous  Park 
Theater  for  my  first  enjoyment  of  that  kind. 
It  was  an  unusual  occasion,  the  benefit  of 
one  of  the  most  popular  actors ;  and  as  such 
it  had  gathered  all  the  theatrical  celebrities ; 
Macready,  Charlotte  Cushman,  Placide,  the 
Burtons  and  others.  The  chief  play  was 
" Hamlet."  On  our  way  home  my  father 
asked  whether  I  understood  and  enjoyed  it. 
"Yes,  greatly,"  I  answered,  "I  had  read  it 
several  times,  but  never  so  well  understood  it, 
as  I  do  now. "  "  Well, ' '  he  said, ' '  if  you  will 
promise  that  until  you  are  twenty  years  old, 
you  will  not  go  to  a  theater  without  my 
knowledge  and  consent,  I  promise  that  when- 
ever you  want  to  go,  I  will  go  with  you,  un- 
less there  should  be  some  strong  reason  to  the 


10  REMINISCENCES 

contrary."  That  promise  was  kept,  and  it 
saved  me  from  what  might  have  been  low  and 
harmful,  and  cultivated  my  taste  for  higher 
and  better  things.  And  from  this  and  other 
things  I  learned  from  him  the  principle 
which  I  afterwards  followed  with  my  own 
sons;  keeping  them  near  me  by  sympathy 
and  participation  in  their  enjoyments. 

When  I  was  a  boy  the  city  covered  but  a 
very  small  portion  of  the  ground  it  now  oc- 
cupies. Above  Tenth  Street  there  were  very 
few  buildings.  At  Gramercy  Park,  now 
below  the  center,  it  was  all  bare  fields  or 
woods.  I  remember  a  Sunday  afternoon 
walk  with  my  father  and  one  of  his  friends. 
We  went  far  out  beyond  streets  and  houses, 
and  on  a  hill  covered  by  rocks  of  mica  slate, 
my  father  said  to  his  friend,  "I  have  bought 
a  good  sized  lot  here  for  one  hundred  dol- 
lars." "Why,  John,"  said  his  friend,  "I 
did  not  think  you  could  be  so  foolish.  It  will 
never  be  used.  The  city  will  never  come  so 
far  as  this." 

"Not  in  my  time,"  was  the  answer,  "but 
it  will  be  in  my  children's  time,  and  I  have 
bought  it  for  them." 


REMINISCENCES  11 

This  must  have  been  about  the  year  1835. 
Thirty-one  years  later,  in  1866,  my  father 
died,  leaving  all  his  estate  for  the  use  of 
my  mother  during  her  life.  Some  ten  years 
after  my  two  brothers,  co-executors  with  me 
wrote  that  my  mother  needed  larger  income 
than  she  was  receiving,  and  that  they  had 
an  offer  of  twenty  thousand  dollars  for  that 
lot.  They  asked  my  consent.  The  lot  was 
sold;  and  within  three  wTeeks  the  purchaser 
sold  it  again  for  eighty  thousand  dollars. 
If  in  the  market  now,  it  would  be  worth 
probably  a  million,  for  it  is  just  at  the  South- 
ern entrance  to  the  Park. 


FEOM  THE  TWELFTH  TO  THE 
TWENTIETH  YEAR 


CHAPTER  II 

FROM  THE  TWELFTH  TO  THE  TWENTIETH  YEAR 

When  I  was  about  twelve  years  old,  I  was 
taken  from  school  and  placed  as  store-boy 
in  a  dry  goods  jobbing  house  in  William 
Street;  salary  for  the  first  year,  nothing; 
for  the  second  year,  fifty  dollars.  I  had  a 
mile  and  a  half  to  walk  from  home,  the  fam- 
ily having  moved  to  a  new  home  still  on 
Greenwich  Street,  but  near  the  corner  of 
Beach  Street.  My  duties  were  to  open  and 
sweep  out  the  store  very  early,  save  twine 
by  tying  and  rolling  it  in  balls,  and  help  to 
pack  and  mark  goods  for  shipping.  But  in 
the  second  year,  because  I  was  found  to  be 
a  good  penman,  and  good  at  figures,  one  or 
two  of  the  less  important  books  were  en- 
trusted to  my  keeping,  and  I  was  soon  pro- 
moted to  be  assistant  bookkeeper. 

In  my  sixteenth  year,  my  father  took  me 
as  his  own  assistant  bookkeeper,  and  from 


16  REMINISCENCES 

being  assistant  I  soon  became  chief.  It  was 
a  place  of  responsibility,  since  beside  his 
New  York  house  he  had  branch  establish- 
ments in  Mobile,  and  in  Columbus,  Georgia, 
with  a  partner  in  each. 

I  am  sure  that  the  business  experience 
and  training  thus  gained  have  been  of  very 
great  value  to  me  in  all  my  after  life. 

I  continued  as  bookkeeper  until  almost 
nineteen  years  of  age ;  but  during  those  years 
came  a  great  change  in  my  life.  In  one  of 
the  summer  vacations,  I  went  with  my  oldest 
sister  to  visit  friends  in  Palmyra,  New  York. 
In  our  company  also  was  one  who  was  called 
my  cousin,  though  really  no  blood  relation ; 
Miss  Maria  G.  Peck,  of  Flushing,  Long  Is- 
land, whom  three  years  later  I  married. 
There  being  no  railroad  available  beyond 
Syracuse  we  there  took  what  was  called  the 
Packet-boat  on  the  Erie  Canal;  a  boat  en- 
tirely given  up  to  passengers,  and  it  was 
crowded.  There  were  eating  accommoda- 
tions and  berths  for  sleeping,  but  after  the 
berths  were  filled,  mattresses  were  spread  on 
the  cabin  floor  and  many  of  us  took  our  rest 
there.     That  part  of  our  journey  took  about 


REMINISCENCES  17 

twenty-four  hours  and  was  quite  interesting. 
On  the  Sunday  after  our  arrival,  my  sis- 
ter, a  very  strict  Presbyterian,  said,  "We 
will  go  to  the  Episcopal  Church  this  morn- 
ing, with  our  friends,  out  of  respect  for 
them."  It  was  my  very  first  glimpse  of  the 
Church  and  of  the  Prayer  Book.  For 
though  living  in  New  York  for  nearly  eight- 
een years,  I  had  never  crossed  the  threshold 
of  an  Episcopal  Church,  and  had  never 
even  seen  a  Prayer  Book.  My  mother, 
being  a  regular  attendant  at  a  Dutch  Re- 
formed Church  (though  not  a  member  of 
it),  I  had  gone  with  her  every  Sunday.  It 
was  the  most  rigid  form  of  Presbyterian 
Calvinism,  giving  me  the  idea  that  as  an 
unconverted  person  I  had  no  part  or  lot  in 
religion.  I  was  an  outsider.  I  must  wait 
till  I  should  be  converted,  and  I  could  do 
nothing  to  help  to  that  conversion.  It  was 
all  foreordained.  When  the  time  came 
which  God  had  fixed  for  it,  if  it  came  at  all, 
I  should  be  converted,  and  I  must  wait.  The 
prayers  offered  by  the  minister  were  all  for 
the  saints,  for  those  who  had  been  converted, 
not  for  me.    They  passed  over  my  head. 


18  REMINISCENCES 

They  may  have  prayed  for  me,  as  a  sinner, 
but  they  did  not  expect  me  to  pray  with 
them. 

That  first  Prayer  Book  Service  was  a  rev- 
elation to  me ;  the  beginning  of  my  first  ear- 
nest religious  thoughts.  From  the  first 
sentences,  through  the  Exhortation  and  Con- 
fession, it  was  a  call  not  for  the  saints  to 
pray,  but  for  sinners  to  pray  for  themselves. 
I  said  to  myself  at  once,  "Why  this  is  wor- 
ship in  which  I  can  take  part ;  worship  for 
the  sinners  even  if  not  yet  converted."  And 
before  that  service  was  ended  I  was  taking 
my  part  in  it  heartily.  In  the  evening  my 
sister  said,  "Now  we  will  go  to  our  own 
Church."  And  I  answered,  "I  am  going 
where  I  went  this  morning. ' '  I  never  went 
back  to  the  Presbyterian  worship.  On  my 
return  to  New  York  I  went  with  my  mother 
to  the  door  of  the  Dutch  Reformed  Congre- 
gation, and  as  leaving  her  I  turned  away  she 
asked  in  surprise,  "Are  you  not  going  in?" 
And  I  said,  "No,  Mother,  I  am  going  to  an 
Episcopal  Church." 

Soon  came  the  feeling  that  I  could  and 
must  do  something  for  my  soul's  sake ;  and  I 


REMINISCENCES  19 

began  to  study  the  old  Puritan  Book,  Dodd- 
ridge's "Rise  and  Progress  of  Religion  in 
the  Soul."  I  tried  to  work  myself  into  the 
feelings  there  pictured ;  the  meditations,  the 
convictions  of  almost  agonizing  despair,  at 
last  giving  place  to  hopeful  raptures.  The 
effort  was  a  failure,  and  in  my  difficulty  I 
sought  advice  from  a  clergyman  of  the 
Church,  the  Reverend  Dr.  Haskins  of  Wil- 
liamsburgh,  Long  Island,  telling  him  of  my 
efforts  and  my  failure  to  work  myself  up  to 
and  through  the  vivid  emotions  there  de- 
scribed as  necessary  to  a  "change  of  heart." 
And  he  soon  convinced  me  that  the  necessity 
was  not  for  the  emotions,  but  for  the  reality 
of  a  wish  and  purpose  to  serve  God.  Some 
months  later,  after  careful  preparation,  on 
Easter  day  in  the  year  1844,  I  wTas  baptized 
in  St.  Mark's  Church,  Williamsburgh ;  and 
on  the  same  day,  there  being  then  no  Bishop 
for  that  diocese,  I  was,  as  "ready  and  desir- 
ous to  be  confirmed,"  admitted  to  my  first 
Communion. 

In  connection  with  that  baptism  and  my 
life  in  the  Church,  arose  the  only  serious  dis- 
agreement between  my  father  and  myself. 


20  REMINISCENCES 

Some  weeks  before  the  day  fixed  for  my 
Baptism,  I  told  him  of  my  purpose ;  and  he 
at  once  and  in  the  strongest  manner  forbade 
it;  declaring  that  until  I  should  be  of  full 
age  I  was  under  his  authority  and  bound  to 
obey.  Now  my  father,  as  lovable  and  hon- 
orable a  man  as  I  have  ever  known,  had  been 
turned  strongly  away  from  all  religious  re- 
lations and  worship.  He  was,  what  is  rarely 
found  in  these  days,  a  thoughtful  and  ear- 
nest-minded deist.  Believing  that  God  is 
the  Father  and  Creator  of  all,  he  stopped 
there,  not  accepting  the  Gospel  as  a  Revela- 
tion, nor  acknowledging  Christ  as  a  Divine 
Redeemer.  He  long  after  gave  me  the  rea- 
sons for  this  position;  saying  that  in  his 
early  life  he  had  been  greatly  wrought  up  in 
the  excitement  of  a  great  Methodist  revival ; 
but  when  the  temporary  excitement  was 
past,  a  reaction  came.  He  felt  that  it  was 
all  unreal,  and  in  his  disappointment  he 
turned  not  only  against  that  particular  phase 
of  religion,  but  against  all  the  Christian  re- 
ligion which  it  claimed  to  represent.  He 
had  been  baptized  in  his  infancy,  in  the 
Church  of  Rome,  his  father  and  ancestors 


REMINISCENCES  21 

in  France  having  been  all  members  of  that 
Church.  But  from  the  time  of  this  unhappy 
revival,  until  almost  the  last  of  his  life  of 
some  seventy-four  years,  he  never  attended 
any  place  of  worship,  and  would  not  permit 
one  of  his  children  to  be  baptized,  or  to  go  to 
Sunday  School,  while  he  left  them  free  to  go 
to  Sunday  services  with  their  mother. 

My  proposed  Baptism  was  therefore  in 
absolute  opposition  to  his  wishes,  and,  his 
prohibition  was  declared  most  absolutely. 
I  again  sought  pastoral  advice,  and  was  told 
that  my  duty  to  God  was  above  my  duty  to 
my  father ;  and  so  I  told  him.  He  insisted 
that  he  must  see  the  clergyman,  and  they 
had  an  interview  the  day  before  that  fixed 
for  the  service.  At  the  close  of  their  con- 
versation, my  father  called  me  before  them, 
and  said  very  calmly,  "  William,  you  must 
choose  between  this  clergyman  and  myself. 
You  know  what  I  wish,  and  what  I  am  sure 
I  have  a  right  to  claim.  Which  shall  it  be  ?  " 
And  my  answer  was,  "  Father,  I  must  be 
baptized."  And  I  went,  feeling  that  the  re- 
lations between  my  father  and  myself  must 
afterwards  be  very  unhappy.    But  in  this  I 


22  KEMINISCENCES 

was  mistaken.  On  my  coming  home  the 
next  day  everything  was  as  pleasant  as  if 
there  had  been  no  disagreement.  And  the 
matter  was  not  even  mentioned  until  many 
years  after.  When  I  had  been  for  some 
time  a  clergyman  and  had  to  study  such 
cases  from  the  standpoint  of  a  pastor,  I 
went  voluntarily  to  my  father  and  told  him 
that  I  knew  now  I  had  been  badly  advised, 
and  that  my  duty  would  have  been  to  yield 
full  obedience  to  him  until  I  should  come  to 
full  age.  But  during  all  the  interval  his 
confidence  and  affection  for  me,  instead  of 
being  diminished,  grew  stronger. 

Some  six  months  later  came  a  second  dif- 
ference of  will  between  us.  I  was  not  a 
lover  of  business.  Though  an  accurate 
bookkeeper  I  disliked  buying  and  selling. 
My  mind  turned  not  only  to  books,  but  very 
strongly  towards  the  ministry.  I  told  him 
of  my  wish  to  give  up  business,  take  a  col- 
lege course  and  become  a  clergyman.  In 
his  strong  objection  to  this,  there  was  none 
of  the  arbitrariness  he  had  before  shown; 
only  reasoning  and  persuasion.  He  told 
me  of  his  wish  and  plans  that  I  should  be 


REMINISCENCES  23 

with  him  in  business ;  that  he  would  take  me 
into  partnership  so  soon  as  I  should  be  of 
age.  And  he  asked  me  to  consider  it  a 
month  before  deciding.  At  the  end  of  the 
month  I  told  him  my  purpose  was  not 
changed.  He  then  offered  to  give  me  one  of 
his  southern  business  establishments,  or  to 
give  me,  and  sustain  me  in,  a  large  planta- 
tion which  he  owned  in  the  State  of  Georgia, 
and  asked  me  to  take  another  month's  con- 
sideration. I  did  so,  but  did  not  change  my 
own  plans.  He  yielded  pleasantly,  saying 
he  could  not  let  me  go  till  I  had  brought  in 
my  next  younger  brother,  Henry,  and  had 
trained  him  to  be  ready  to  take  my  place. 
After  that  he  would  provide  all  my  expenses 
through  College,  and  until  my  ordination, 
"but  after  that,"  said  he,  "you  know  I  can- 
not continue  to  help." 

My  mother  also  advised  me  not  to  seek  to 
be  a  clergyman,  urging  that  I  w7as  entirely 
unfit  for  it ;  that  my  health  was  too  poor, — 
my  voice  so  bad  that  I  could  never  be  a  good 
speaker, — and  that  I  had  an  ungovernable 
temper.  In  all  which  respects  I  think  the 
results  have  shown  that  she  was  mistaken. 


24  REMINISCENCES 

It  took  several  months  to  get  my  brother 
used  to  his  new  position  and  work;  after 
which  I  was  free  to  make  my  own  plans.  It 
was  thought  better  that  instead  of  remain- 
ing in  the  city  and  taking  the  course  at  Co- 
lumbia College,  I  should  go  away  from  home ; 
and  I  chose  Hobart  College  at  Geneva,  New 
York,  as  having  three  advantages.  It  was  a 
Church  college,  a  small  one,  and  in  a  very 
pleasant  and  healthful  place.  But  the  work 
of  preparing  for  it,  since  I  had  no  Latin  or 
Greek,  was  a  serious  matter. 

Taking  a  third  story  room  which  I  had 
to  myself  in  my  father's  house,  I  engaged  a 
tutor,  the  Reverend  James  Millet,1  a 
graduate  of  the  University  of  Dublin,  and 
an  excellent  scholar,  to  give  me  private  les- 
sons. He  came  every  day  for  twelve  days 
for  lessons  of  an  hour  and  a  half  each.  He 
was  a  good  teacher  for  just  such  work,  and 
I  was  a  diligent  and  determined  student, 
and  made  great  progress.  After  the  twelfth 
lesson  I  dismissed  the  tutor  and  studied  by 
myself.    This  began  in  February,  1846.     I 

1  The  Rev.  James  Millet,  rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy 
Martyrs,  New  York. 


REMINISCENCES  25 

began  my  day's  work  very  early,  had  two 
hours  of  study  before  breakfast,  an  hour's 
walk  for  exercise,  study  again  until  lunch  at 
half  joast  twelve,  another  hour's  walk,  and 
study  till  seven;  some  ten  hours  a  day  of 
solid  study.  But  my  heart  was  in  it ;  and  to 
my  own  amazement  I  found  that  in  eight 
months  I  had  not  only  fully  prepared  for 
entrance,  but  had  read  also  all  the  course  of 
the  Freshman  year.  In  September  I  pre- 
sented myself  for  examination,  passed,  and 
took  my  place  as  a  Sophomore. 

One  advantage  of  the  method  I  followed, 
of  depending  on  myself,  was  that  I  was  more 
thoroughly  grounded  than  any  of  my  class- 
mates, and  early  kept  the  lead. 


PROM    THE    TWENTIETH    YEAR- 
COLLEGE,  ORDINATION,  MY 
FIRST  PARISH 


CHAPTER  III 

FROM  THE  TWENTIETH  YEAR — COLLEGE,  ORDI- 
NATION, MY  FIRST  PARISH 

The  life  at  college  was  a  very  pleasant 
one,  yet  very  strict.  We  had  to  rise  early, 
go  to  chapel  at  six,  have  an  hour's  recitation 
and  were  then  free  for  breakfast,  &c,  till 
nine  o  'clock.  There  was  no  arrangement  for 
eating  at  the  college,  and  I  had  to  walk  a 
mile  and  back  for  every  meal.  Then  came 
study  in  our  rooms  from  nine  to  eleven,  rec- 
itation till  twelve,  and  freedom  till  two; 
study  and  recitation  till  five,  then  tea  and 
freedom  till  seven,  when  we  were  expected 
to  be  in  our  rooms  for  study  and  enjoyment 
and  sleep.  But  after  a  good  hour's  study, 
the  rest  of  the  evening  was  generally  given  to 
visits  and  good-fellowship. 

My  room  was  a  very  pleasant  one,  and 
there  was  a  circle  of  six  or  eight,  who  loved 
to  gather  there  to  have  me  read  for  them 


30  REMINISCENCES 

the  next  morning's  lesson,  to  smoke,  and 
play  cards  and  chess.  I  was  the  only  one 
who  did  not  smoke,  and  I  soon  found  myself 
a  little  lonely.  For  good-fellowship  I  de- 
termined to  learn.  I  thought  I  might  lose  a 
lesson  and  a  meal  from  tobacco  sickness,  yet 
I  took  a  pipe.  The  first  day  I  lost  three  les- 
sons and  three  meals.  Supposing  the  vic- 
tory won,  I  began  again  the  next  day,  and 
again  I  lost  three  recitations  and  three 
meals;  and  the  third  day  brought  the  same 
result.  But  I  persevered;  and  the  fourth 
day  brought  only  some  temporary  uneasi- 
ness. But  I  never  loved  smoking,  and  I 
continued  it  not  for  pleasure,  but  for  com- 
panionship, and  on  the  day  of  graduation  I 
gave  it  up;  and  from  that  to  this  present 
time,  sixty  years,  I  have  never  touched  to- 
bacco. 

The  college  life  was  very  quiet.  There 
were  not  more  than  fifty  or  sixty  students  in 
all,  and  the  craze  for  athletics  was  unknown. 
There  were  no  football  or  baseball  games. 
And  this  quietness  helped  much  to  the  ef- 
fectiveness of  study. 

Among  my  fellow  students  there  were  two 


REMINISCENCES  31 

only  with  whom  I  became  quite  intimate. 
One  of  them  wras  Henry  Adams  Neely,  who 
afterward  became  an  assistant  minister  of 
Trinity  Church,  New  York,  and  later  the 
Bishop  of  Maine.  The  other  was  Charles 
Wells  Hayes,  who  later  became  the  principal 
of  the  De  Lancey  Divinity  School  in  Geneva. 
With  both  of  these,  as  long  as  they  lived,  the 
close  friendship  continued.  Both  are  now 
(1909)  at  rest;  and  of  all  my  college  mates, 
I  think  only  one  is  living. 

During  the  Junior  year,  I  earned  my  first 
money  for  literary  labor.  At  the  medical 
department  of  the  college,  there  was  one 
female  student,  Miss  Elizabeth  Blackwell. 
She  was,  I  think,  the  first  woman  to  take  a 
medical  degree  in  America.  As  commence- 
ment was  coming  near,  the  authorities  of  the 
medical  department  were  troubled  by  finding 
that  their  engraved  forms  of  diplomas  did 
not  suit  the  case.  They  were  in  Latin,  and 
prepared  for  the  masculine  gender.  They 
applied  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hale,  our  president, 
seeking  someone  who  could  write  a  good 
hand,  and  good  Latin  also.  The  president 
named  me.     I  drew  up  a  diploma  on  parch- 


32  REMINISCENCES 

merit,  and  received  fifteen  dollars  as  a  fee. 

I  passed  only  two  years,  the  Sophomore 
and  Junior,  in  actual  college  residence.  At 
the  close  of  the  Junior  year,  the  president, 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Hale,  came  to  me  and  earnestly 
pressed  an  unusual  request.  He  said  that 
there  was  in  Syracuse,  a  very  large  and  im- 
portant school,  the  Parish  School  of  St. 
Paul's  Church,  which  needed  a  competent 
principal,  and  had  asked  him  to  find  one. 
He  flattered  me  by  saying  he  knew  no  one 
else  so  well  fitted  for  the  post  as  I  was, — that 
I  was  so  far  ahead  of  my  class,  that  I  could 
easily  do  the  Senior  work  privately,  and  he 
begged  that  I  would  take  the  charge.  I  did, 
and  though  then  only  twenty-two  years  old, 
I  became  the  principal  of  that  school,  which 
had  three  departments,  and  two  assistant 
teachers.  It  kept  me  closely  busy,  but  did 
not  break  up  my  studies ;  for  at  the  close  of 
the  year,  I  went  back  to  the  college,  and 
passed  all  examinations  with  honor. 

That  school  year  brought  me  into  relations 
with  one  who  afterward  became  quite  dis- 
tinguished, both  as  scholar  and  statesman. 
Andrew   D.   White,   then   living  with   his 


BEMINISCENCES  33 

father  in  Syracuse,  became  a  regular  pupil 
in  the  Parish  School.  He  was  then  about 
seventeen  years  old.  But  he  was  far  above 
all  the  other  scholars,  not  in  age,  but  in  char- 
acter and  earnestness.  His  aim  was  to  pre- 
pare for,  and  enter  college.  We  soon  found 
that  the  regular  class  work  was  holding  him 
back ;  and  he  asked  me  to  take  him  as  a  pri- 
vate scholar,  outside  of  school  hours.  I  de- 
clined to  do  so,  because  I  needed  some  hours 
for  my  own  study  and  for  exercise.  He  was 
persistent,  and  promised  that  if  I  would  take 
him,  he  would  at  half  past  five  every  morn- 
ing bring  two  saddle  horses  to  my  door,  one 
for  me,  and  one  for  himself,  and  we  could 
take  our  exercise  in  that  way.  On  that  con- 
dition I  promised  to  give  him  an  hour  and  a 
half  daily  for  tuition.  The  result  was  that 
the  next  year  he  entered  Hobart  College  with 
credit,  just  as  I  was  graduated  (1849). 

At  my  graduation,  the  first  honor,  the  val- 
edictory oration  was  given  to  me;  and  not- 
withstanding my  father's  unwillingness  to 
have  me  give  up  business  for  study,  he, 
bringing  one  of  my  sisters,  came  on  from 
New  York  to  be  present  at  the  time. 


34  REMINISCENCES 

One  month  after  my  graduation,  I  mar- 
ried Miss  Maria  Gr.  Peck,2  with  my  father's 
approval  and  his  promise  to  continue  to 
help  me  in  money,  with  the  increased  ex- 
penses, until  my  ordination.  I  remained 
one  year  longer  in  charge  of  the  school  at 
Syracuse,  earning  some  six  hundred  dollars, 
to  which  my  father  added  three  hundred; 
and  we  were  able  to  keep  house  very  moder- 
ately. 

At  the  end  of  that  year,  again  at  the  ur- 
ging of  President  Hale,  whose  friendship  for 
me  was  very  helpful,  I  took  charge  of  an 
important  academy  at  Moravia,  Cayuga 
County,  removing  thither  with  my  wife  and 
young  child.  Our  house  there  was  very 
small  indeed;  hardly  large  enough  for  our- 
selves; rent,  fifty  dollars  a  year.  But  we 
soon  had  to  crowd  in  another.  My  former 
pupil,  Andrew  D.  White,  after  his  first  year 

2  August  22nd,  1849.  She  was  the  daughter  of  Isaac  and 
Agnes  Peck  of  Flushing,  Long  Island.  The  children  of  this 
marriage  were  Adaline  Peck,  William  Hale  and  John  Francis 
(twins),  Milnor  Peck,  and  Adelia  Vassar.  Mrs.  Paret  died 
February  1st,  1897,  and  on  April  21st,  1900,  Bishop  Paret 
married  Sarah  Hayden  Haskell,  widow  of  Henry  Tudor  Has- 
kell of  Chicago.  Mrs.  Sarah  Haskell  Paret  had  one  daughter 
by  her  former  marriage, — now  Mrs.  David  M.  Robinson. 


REMINISCENCES  35 

at  Hobart,  determined  to  go  to  Yale.    And 
lie  wrote  to  me,  asking  me  to  take  him  again 
as  a  private  pupil,  and  prepare  him  for  ad- 
vanced standing  at  the  University,  and  to 
give  him  room  and  board  at  my  house.     I 
told  him  it  was  impossible,  there  being  no 
room  to  spare.     But  he  was  again  insistent, 
wanted  no  other  teacher,  and  said  he  would 
be  content  with  a  closet  or  a  garret,  if  it  had 
only  room  for  a  bed.     He  came,  remained 
several  months,  proved  a  very  pleasant  com- 
panion, and  went  from  me  to  Yale.     He 
afterwards  became  Attache  and  Minister  at 
the  United  States  Embassy  in  Russia,  Pro- 
fessor of  history  in  the  University  of  Mich- 
igan, President  of  Cornell  University,  Min- 
ister  and   United    States    Ambassador   to 
Germany. 

From  Moravia  I  was  recalled  to  Hobart 
College,  to  be  tutor  in  Greek,  and  in  the 
mathematics,  with  opportunity  to  continue 
my  theological  studies.  Those  studies  were 
under  the  personal  direction  of  Bishop  De 
Lancey,  and  several  clergymen  whom  he 
called  to  help  him  chief  among  whom  and 
most  helpful  was  the  Rev.  William  D.  Wil- 


36  REMINISCENCES 

son,  D.D.,  a  man  of  very  great  learning, 
and  of  great  ability  to  impart  it. 

At  the  time  of  graduation  from  college, 
there  were  four  or  five  who  were  seeking  to 
enter  the  ministry;  and  the  bishop,  calling 
us  together  asked  us  not  to  go  to  a  theolog- 
ical seminary,  but  to  remain  at  or  near 
Geneva,  and  form  a  class  under  his  direc- 
tion. It  was  an  experiment,  but  a  success- 
ful one.  Out  of  a  class  of  six,  two  after- 
wards became  bishops,  and  two  became  the 
heads  of  schools  of  theology. 

Besides  the  general  direction  and  planning 
of  the  course,  the  Bishop's  personal  instruc- 
tions were  in  preaching,  in  reading  the  serv- 
ices, and  in  pastoral  work.  Those  instruc- 
tions and  his  personal  near  influence  were 
more  helpful  to  me  than  any  possible  the- 
ological seminary. 

When  the  time  for  our  ordination  came, 
our  own  bishop,  Bishop  De  Lancey,  was  in 
Europe ;  and  the  Bishop  of  New  Hampshire, 
the  Right  Reverend  Carlton  Chase,  acting  in 
his  place  admitted  me  to  Deacon's  Orders. 
And  again  my  father's  objections  gave  way 
to  his  interest  and  affection,  and  he  came  to 


REMINISCENCES  37 

Rochester  to  be  present  at  the  ordination.3 
My  first  pastoral  work  was  at  St.  John's 
Church,  in  Clyde,  N.  Y.,  to  which  President 
Hale  acting  for  the  absent  bishop  had  as- 
signed me.  It  was  a  small  town  on  the  Erie 
Canal,  with  a  small  wooden  church,  and  a 
small  congregation.  On  the  munificent  sal- 
ary of  $500  a  year  I  was  expected  to  support 
my  wife  and  child  and  myself,  even  paying- 
house  rent.  It  called  for  much  self-denial, 
and  close  counting  of  pennies ;  and  it  would 
not  have  been  possible,  but  for  the  loving 
generosity  of  my  country  parishioners.  I 
remember  one  family  coming  in  some  four 
miles  and  every  Simday  leaving  at  the  par- 
sonage either  a  pail  of  butter,  or  a  basket  of 
eggs,  or  a  pair  of  chickens;  and  another 
farming  household  which  at  least  twice  every 
winter  sent  a  load  of  wood ;  and  others  who 
at  killing  time  would  send  a  generous  part 
of  their  mutton  or  beef. 

One  of  the  parishioners  at  Clyde  was  Mr. 
Charles  A.  Rose,  an  accomplished  gentle- 
man, graduate  of  college,  living  pleasantly 
as  a  gentleman  farmer  some  three  miles  from 

s  1852.     Ordained  priest  by  Bishop  De  Lancey  in  1853. 


38  REMINISCENCES 

the  church,  where  with  his  wife  and  daugh- 
ter he  was  a  regular  attendant.  Our  rela- 
tions became  somewhat  intimate.  I  sup- 
posed that  he  was  a  communicant,  but  the 
parish  records  were  very  imperfect,  and  at 
the  times  of  Holy  Communion  I  was  gener- 
ally absent,  since  being  only  a  deacon,  I  could 
get  the  administration  only  by  exchanging 
services  with  some  neighboring  priest. 
While  riding  one  day  with  Mr.  Rose,  our 
conversation  turned  upon  some  recent  pub- 
lications of  plausible  and  bitter  skepticism. 
And  I  said  that  there  were  things  more 
harmful  to  Christianity  than  that;  for  in- 
stance, the  powerful  influence  of  example, 
when  men  esteemed  in  a  community  as  men 
of  uprightness  and  honor  and  lovable  qual- 
ities, instead  of  openly  avowing  themselves 
Christians,  by  becoming  communicants, 
threw  all  the  power  of  their  character  and 
influence  practically  against  Christ  and  the 
Church,  by  their  attitude  of  neglect. 

Some  weeks  after  when  I  had  announced 
an  appointment  for  Confirmation,  Mr.  Rose 
was  one  of  the  first  to  come  to  me,  asking  to 
be  confirmed.     I  expressed  my  surprise,  say- 


REMINISCENCES  39 

ing,  "I  thought  you  were  a  communicant." 
He  said  that  though  often  invited  to  be  con- 
firmed, he  had  not  only  always  refused,  but 
had,  for  personal  reasons,  declared  that  he 
never  would  be ;  but  that  God  had  spoken  to 
him  through  me,  and  he  had  changed  his 
mind.  I  asked  whether  he  remembered 
what  I  had  once  said  about  the  example  of 
practical  disobedience  on  the  part  of  other- 
wise good  men ;  and  I  almost  apologized  for 
seeming  to  be  so  personal,  saying  that  I 
would  not  have  been  so  rude,  had  I  under- 
stood his  position. 

"I  am  glad  you  did  not,"  he  said;  " in- 
stead of  blaming  you,  I  thank  you  for  it,  and 
for  your  plainness.  It  was  by  that  conver- 
sation my  eyes  were  opened.  I  saw  then 
what  was  meant  by  'He  that  is  not  with  me 
is  against  me. '  And  I  learned  a  lesson,  not 
to  let  the  fear  of  man  keep  me  from  being 
true  to  God." 

Another  warm  friend  wTas  Mr.  Scott,  a 
plain  man  in  whose  hat  shop  near  the  post 
office  I  used  to  linger,  while  waiting  for  the 
opening  of  the  mail.  He  was  an  earnest  and 
devout  man,  a  great  reader  of  the  Bible,  and 


40  REMINISCENCES 

very  determined  in  his  position  as  a  Univer- 
salist ;  and  he  loved  to  talk  about  it.  He  was 
well  read  and  ready  as  to  all  the  writings  in 
defense  of  his  views.  Our  disagreements 
were  very  clearly  expressed,  but  always  with 
the  greatest  kindness.  He  lovingly  tried  to 
convince  me,  and  I  as  lovingly  tried  to  con- 
vince him;  but  both  remained  firm.  After 
some  weeks  of  such  acquaintance,  he  told  me 
that  he  had  a  son,  about  twenty-one  years 
old,  lying  very  ill  with  consumption,  and  be- 
yond hope  of  recovery ;  and  he  asked  me  to 
visit  him. 

"As  a  clergyman  or  only  as  a  social 
friend?"  I  asked.  "As  a  clergyman,"  he 
answered.  And  I  told  him  I  would  gladly  do 
so,  if  he  would  leave  me  free  to  do  all  that  I 
felt  to  be  my  duty.  "You  know,"  I  said, 
' '  that  we  differ  much  in  our  views.  You  say 
that  you  do  not  believe  in  any  Water-Bap- 
tism. I  do ;  and  I  count  it,  as  by  our  Lord's 
appointment,  a  very  great  necessity.  I  shall 
try  to  make  him  see  it  so,  and  to  be  baptized. 
It  would  do  harm,  instead  of  good,  if  you 
tried  in  any  way  to  prevent  it,  or  to  speak  in 
opposition  to  my  teachings."    He  assured 


REMINISCENCES  41 

me  that  he  would  in  no  way  interfere,  but 
wished  to  be  present  at  our  interviews.  It 
was  so  arranged,  and  weeks  passed  with  my 
almost  daily  visits  of  prayer  and  teaching; 
the  father  being  always  present,  and  deeply 
interested.  The  son  at  first  tried  to  reject 
my  teachings,  saying  that  he  believed  as  his 
father  did,  and  could  not  believe  in  eternal 
punishment.  I  refused  to  consider  that 
point,  saying  that  I  did  not  ask  him  to  be- 
lieve in  eternal  punishment,  but  in  eternal 
salvation.  And  as  often  as  he  tried  to  bring 
that  subject  forward,  I  pushed  it  aside.  At 
last  he  listened,  joined  in  the  prayers,  and 
was  eager  for  my  visits.  When  I  began  to 
speak  to  him  about  the  duty  and  the  blessing 
of  Baptism,  again  he  said,  "There  is  no  use 
in  talking  about  that,  I  agree  with  my  father, 
and  do  not  believe  in  any  Water-Baptism." 
And  I  answered  that  the  question  was  not 
what  he  thought,  but  what  Christ  wished  and 
commanded;  and  I  read  and  explained  the 
passages  about  it  in  the  New  Testament. 
Again  there  was  long  hesitation  and  slow 
yielding.  And  at  last  I  said  to  him, l '  Now  I 
am  going  to  ask  your  decision.    Will  you  be 


42  REMINISCENCES 

baptized  or  not  ?  If  you  say  yes,  I  will  be 
very  glad.  If  you  say  no,  I  will  accept  that 
as  final.  Think  and  pray  over  it  to-night, 
and  when  I  come  to  you  to-morrow,  give  me 
your  answer.' ' 

The  next  day  he  told  me  he  had  been  much 
in  doubt ;  at  one  time  thinking  he  would  be 
baptized,  but  then  not  feeling  entirely  sure, 
he  thought  it  wTould  be  wrong  to  do  an  act 
about  which  he  was  in  doubt.  ' '  So, ' '  he  said, 
"I  will  not  be  baptized.''  His  father,  who 
during  those  many  weeks  had  said  nothing 
except  to  join  in  the  prayers,  started  up,  ex- 
claiming, "O,  Walter,  do  not  say  that,"  and 
then  asked  my  permission  to  speak  to  him 
which  I  gave.  He  said  to  his  son,  that  he 
thought  he  was  an  absolutely  temperate  man, 
and  the  son  confirmed  it,  saying  that  he  did 
not  drink  anything  that  could  intoxicate. 
"That  is  right,"  said  the  father,  "it  is  good 
to  be  temperate,  but  there  is  a  society  called 
the  Sons  of  Temperance  and  those  who  are 
members  of  it  have  help  to  keep  their  own 
good  habits,  and  help  in  trying  to  save  others. 
But  your  being  temperate  does  not  make  you 
a  Son  of  Temperance.     They  require  that 


REMINISCENCES  43 

you  should  say  so  in  their  way,  should  put 
your  name  to  their  pledge,  and  be  bound  by 
their  rules.  Now  Mr.  Paret  says,  and  I 
think  that  the  Bible  agrees  with  him,  that 
God  has  a  Society  called  the  Church;  and 
membership  in  that  brings  you  help  for  your- 
self, and  helps  you  to  help  others.  Now  I 
am  sure  you  do  really  repent  of  all  you  have 
ever  done  that  was  wrong.  But  repentance 
alone  does  not  make  you  a  member  of  the 
Church.  The  Saviour  wants  you  to  say  so 
in  his  way ;  to  put  your  name  to  his  pledge ; 
and  that  is  by  being  baptized. ' ' 

After  a  few  moments'  silence,  the  young 
man  said, — "I  wish  to  be  baptized."  In 
further  preparing  him  I  read  and  explained 
the  service  for  Baptism.  As  I  reached  the 
first  question,  "Dost  thou  renounce  the  Devil 
and  all  his  works'?"  he  exclaimed,  "I  was 
afraid  something  would  prevent  it.  I  can't 
answer  that  question ;  I  do  not  believe  in  any 
devil."  "I  do  not  ask  you  to  believe  in  the 
Devil.  I  only  want  you  to  believe  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ. ' '  And  I  read  to  him  the 
passages  in  the  New  Testament  which  speak 
of  the  Devil,  or  Satan,  and  I  said,  "Now 


44  REMINISCENCES 

neither  you  nor  I  know  exactly  what  it 
means;  but  put  your  own  meaning  on  it. 
Whether  it  means,  as  I  think,  a  personal 
wicked  spirit  or  only  the  power  of  sin  and 
evil ;  put  the  Bible  meaning  on  it.  Dost  thou 
renounce  the  Devil  and  all  his  works?" 
''With  all  my  heart,"  was  the  answer.  The 
next  day  he  was  baptized,  lived  some  three 
months  after,  received  the  Holy  Communion, 
and  on  his  death,  I  buried  him. 

Soon  after  my  Bishop  insisted  on  my  go- 
ing to  another  parish,  and  some  few  months 
later  I  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Scott  tell- 
ing me  that  he,  his  wife  and  his  daughters 
had  all  been  baptized  and  confirmed.  To 
my  questions  of  surprise  that  one  so  fixed  in 
his  peculiar  views  should  make  such  a 
change,  he  said,  "Before  I  knew  you,  when- 
ever I  read  my  Bible,  there  was  always  one 
thought  which  hid  everything  else  from  my 
mind;  and  that  was  the  question  of  eternal 
punishment.  But  when  you  visited  my  son, 
you  pushed  it  out  of  the  way  as  a  trifle.  It 
has  been  a  trifle  to  me  ever  since.  I  am  will- 
ing to  leave  that  to  God's  loving  justice. 
And  now  I  can  see,  as  I  never  saw  before,  the 


REMINISCENCES  45 

great  truths  told  in  the  Apostles'  Creed;  and 
my  Bible  seems  full  of  light." 

It  was  at  Clyde  that  I  became  an  enthusi- 
astic trout-fisherman.  I  had  opened  a  par- 
ish school  which  I  taught  myself ;  and  with 
this  added  to  general  pastoral  work,  I  was 
closely  confined.  I  became  dyspeptic.  The 
good  country  doctor,  after  a  few  visits,  said 
that  he  could  not  help  me,  unless  I  would 
keep  my  own  rules.  I  preached  to  others 
that  they  must  wTork  only  six  days  in  the 
week,  and  I  was  working  seven.  "  You  must 
go  trout-fishing,  one  day  each  week."  But 
when  I  said  I  knew  nothing  of  trout,  he  an- 
swered, "It  is  a  poor  country  doctor  that 
cannot  administer  his  own  medicine.  I  will 
take  you  fishing  next  Monday."  He  did  so, 
and  before  we  left  the  stream,  he  asked  how 
I  liked  it.  "Greatly,"  I  answered.  He 
took  a  prescription  pad,  and  wrote,  "To  be 
repeated  one  day  each  week,  till  November." 
I  obeyed,  and  the  dyspepsia  vanished. 


MY  LIFE  AT  PIERREPONT  MANOR 


CHAPTER  IV 

MY  LIFE  AT  PIERREPONT  MANOR 

About  the  year  1855,  after  only  two  years 
at  Clyde,  much  against  my  own  will,  but  at 
the  Bishop 's  almost  positive  command,  I  be- 
came rector  of  Zion  Church,  Pierrepont 
Manor.  The  salary  was  still  only  $600 
(with  wife  and  three  children  to  care  for). 
But  there  was  a  parsonage  with  some  six 
acres  of  ground.  Having  been  before  used 
only  to  city  or  town  life,  I  knew  nothing  of 
the  country;  but  I  soon  became  a  farmer, 
and  with  that  scanty  salary,  I  had  to  do 
much  of  my  own  work.  I  learned  to  take 
care  of  my  own  horse,  and  to  milk  my  two 
cows. 

My  work  soon  grew  from  the  one  little 
church  holding  only  100  people,  to  two 
churches,  six  miles  apart,  a  parish  school 
which  I  founded,  and  in  which,  with  two  as- 
sistant teachers,  women,  I  taught  for  two 


50  BEMINISCENCES 

hours  daily  except  Mondays  and  Saturdays. 
Besides  the  church  at  Pierrepont  Manor, 
finding  myself  the  only  resident  minister  in 
a  region  of  more  than  150  square  miles,  I 
began  services  in  four  distant  schoolhouses, 
giving  my  Wednesday  and  Friday  evenings 
to  them,  so  that  each  had  a  service  once  in  a 
fortnight.  The  schoolhouses  were  always 
well  filled,  and  the  people  interested.  I  soon 
found  also  a  church  which  had  been  built, 
while  he  was  a  layman, — by  him  who  after- 
ward became  Bishop  Whipple.  It  was  in 
the  thriving  town  of  Adams.  I  found  three 
or  four  remaining  church  members,  and  I 
offered  my  services  to  keep  the  church  open, 
and  try  to  rebuild  the  work.  They  de- 
clined, saying  it  was  impossible  to  pay  any 
salary;  and  I  answered  that  I  did  not  ask 
any  salary.  If  they  would  open  the  church, 
light  it  and  heat  it,  I  would  hold  service 
every  Sunday  evening.  And  after  much 
urging  they  agreed.  But  since  I  had  at  the 
Manor,  two  full  services  and  a  Sunday 
School,  and  had  to  get  home  to  attend  to 
barn  duties  there  by  10  p.m.,  I  had  to  fix 
my  services  at  Adams  at  half  past  six.     It 


BEMINISCENCES  51 

seemed  at  first  that  the  hour  was  so  incon- 
venient, that  attendance  would  be  very 
small.  But  it  proved  the  very  opposite. 
There  were  five  other  places  of  worship ;  but 
at  half  past  six,  none  of  them  had  services, 
and  their  people  were  all  free  to  come  to 
mine.  They  did  come.  My  church  became 
the  popular  place  and  was  always  well  filled. 
Among  the  regular  attendants  soon  were 
found  the  Baptist  minister,  the  Methodist 
and  Congregational  ministers,  and  one  re- 
tired Presbyterian  minister,  the  Eeverend 
Jedidiah  Burchard  who  had  been  a  famous 
revivalist.  Sitting  in  the  congregation  they 
took  hearty  part  in  the  services,  and  we  be- 
came warm  personal  friends. 

My  work  at  Adams  lasted  some  ten  years, 
and  was  full  of  pleasant  incidents ;  and  left 
as  a  result  a  congregation  so  strong  that  it 
afterwards  had  its  own  resident  rector. 

One  of  the  regular  attendants  and  regular 
in  receiving  Holy  Communion,  was  Mr. 
John  H.  Whipple,  the  chief  merchant  of  the 
place.  He  was  the  father  of  Bishop  Whip- 
ple, and  was  soon  elected  a  member  of  the 
vestry.    After  some  eighteen  months,  there 


52  REMINISCENCES 

was  to  be  a  Confirmation,  and  in  preparing 
for  it,  I  learned  to  my  surprise  that  he  had 
never  been  confirmed,  and  I  told  him  he 
would  be  glad  to  have  the  opportunity  now. 
He  answered  that  he  did  not  intend  to  be 
confirmed;  that  he  was  a  member  of  the 
Presbyterian  congregation,  his  wife  regu- 
larly attended  that  worship,  his  friends  and 
business  associates  were  Presbyterians,  and 
he  could  not  separate  himself  from  them.  I 
reminded  him  that  he  was  claiming  and  had 
claimed  for  eighteen  months,  all  the  priv- 
ileges of  a  regularly  recognized  communi- 
cant ;  and  read  to  him  the  Prayer  Book  rule 
which  made  Confirmation  necessary  to  such 
a  position. 

To  this  he  answered  that  his  son,  the 
bishop,  assured  him  that  in  his  case  it  was 
not  necessary.  And  in  the  confidence  of 
enthusiastic  youth  I  answered  that  while  his 
son  was  Bishop  of  Minnesota,  he  had  no 
authority  in  Adams,  and  that  I  was  rector. 
He  hoped  that  I  would  not  press  the  rule, 
and  I  said  I  hoped  he  would  not  compel  me 
to  do  so.  But, ' '  I  insist, ' '  he  said.  ' '  Do  you 
say  that  I  cannot  continue  as  a  communi- 


BEMINISCENCES  53 

cant  without  being  confirmed?"  I  said  I 
was  sorry,  but  there  could  be  only  one  an- 
swer, and  that  was  given  in  the  Prayer 
Book.  "Then  you  shut  the  door  of  the 
Church  against  mef  " No, ' '  I  said, ' ' I  hold 
the  front  door  of  the  Church  wide  open ;  but 
if  you  say  you  will  not  come  in  that  way; 
and  unless  you  can  come  in  through  the  back 
door,  or  a  window,  you  will  not  come  in  at 
all,  then  you  are  shut  out  not  by  me,  but  by 
yourself."  Several  times  before  the  Con- 
firmation, and  even  only  a  week  before  it, 
we  went  over  the  matter  again.  But  he 
would  not  yield.  The  evening  of  Confirma- 
tion came,  and  I  was  called  out  from  the 
vestry  room  with  the  statement  that  some- 
one wished  to  see  me  at  the  door.  It  was  Mr. 
Whipple,  wTho  said,  "I  have  changed  my 
mind,  and  if  it  is  not  too  late,  I  wish  to  be 
confirmed." 

It  was  one  of  my  earliest  confirmations  of 
a  principle  and  truth  which  I  have  never 
found  to  fail  in  all  my  nearly  fifty-nine 
years  in  the  ministry ;  that  is,  that  it  is  pos- 
sible to  maintain  with  absolute  firmness,  and 
yet  with  most  perfect  kindness,  the  princi- 


54  REMINISCENCES 

pies  and  rules  of  the  Church ;  and  in  so  do- 
ing I  never  lost  a  friend  but  gained  the  con- 
fidence and  respect  of  those  who  did  not 
agree  with  me. 

Some  other  incidents  of  my  pastoral  work 
at  Adams  will  illustrate  this.  Among  the 
most  regular  attendants  at  our  early  even- 
ing service  was  the  Baptist  minister,  the 
Reverend  Mr.  Cleghorn.  He  wTas  a  Scotch- 
man by  birth,  a  clear-headed  man  and  firm 
in  his  own  views.  He  always  brought  his 
own  Prayer  Book,  and  I  heard  his  clear,  full 
voice  in  the  responses.  He  soon  made  him- 
self known  to  me,  and  expressed  very  great 
love  for  the  Prayer  Book,  and  satisfaction 
for  his  enjoyment  and  help  in  the  services. 
He  had  another  congregation  at  Woodville, 
a  village  some  five  or  six  miles  distant;  and 
one  day  he  came  to  me  asking  a  favor.  He 
said,  "My  people  at  Woodville  have  never 
known  a  Prayer  Book  service.  It  would 
help  them  much.  Will  you  not  give  us  a 
service  there  ?  I  will  put  the  church  at  your 
disposal,  and  will  sit  with  the  congregation 
and  lead  them  in  the  responses. ' '  I  accepted 
the  invitation  and  took  a  number  of  Prayer 


REMINISCENCES  55 

Books  and  some  of  my  own  people.  And  at 
least  twice  a  year  for  the  nine  or  ten  years 
of  my  longer  stay,  he  repeated  the  invita- 
tion, saying,  "My  people  want  it,  and  I  want 
it  for  them." 

A  few  years  later,  returning  from  a  jour- 
ney, as  I  entered  the  cars  at  a  place  thirty 
miles  south  of  my  home,  the  voice  of  Mr. 
Cleghorn  called  me  by  name  saying,  "Come 
here,  come ;  your  name  was  just  on  my  lips." 
He  introduced  me  to  several  Baptist  min- 
isters who  were  returning  with  him  from  the 
meetings  of  a  Baptist  "Association."  "I 
was  just  telling  them,"  he  said,  "how  greatly 
your  services  and  sermons  delighted  and 
helped  me.  And  if  you  would  only  change 
two  things,  I  think  I  would  be  confirmed 
and  join  your  Church."  "What  two 
things?"  I  asked.  "Give  up  baptizing 
babies,"  he  said,  "and  have  the  Baptism  of 
Repentance,  and  give  up  sprinkling  and 
have  only  immersion."  To  my  question, 
"Why  not  baptize  infants'?"  he  answered, 
"because  they  cannot  repent,  and  there  can 
be  no  right  Baptism  without  repentance." 
"Oh,  yes,  there  can  be,"  I  said.    And  he  an- 


56  REMINISCENCES 

swered,  "Repentance  must  come  first.  Re- 
pent .and  be  baptized,  is  the  command.  "Why 
the  very  act  of  Baptism  is  itself  a  profession 
of  repentance,  the  acknowledgment  of  sins 
to  be  forgiven  and  washed  away.  And  acts 
speak  as  plainly  as  words."  To  my  re- 
peated assertions,  that  there  could  be  a  right 
Baptism  without  repentance,  he  said  that  if 
I  could  show  him  a  proof  of  a  right  Baptism 
without  repentance,  he  would  come  and  be 
confirmed,  and  his  fellow  Baptist  ministers 
said  they  would  all  come  if  I  could  prove  it. 
"Very  well,"  I  said,  "I  may  hold  you  to 
that.  But  leave  that  point  for  the  present, 
and  come  to  the  other.  Why  must  we  be 
immersed?"  "Because  Christ  was,"  he 
said.  I  denied  it,  saying  the  ancient  inscrip- 
tions, in  the  Catacombs  and  elsewhere,  rep- 
resented Him  as  standing  knee  deep  in  the 
water,  while  St.  John  poured  water  on  Him 
from  a  shell;  "but  yielding  that  point  for 
the  time,  why  must  we  do  just  the  same?" 
"Because,"  he  said,  "that  was  the  great  ex- 
ample, the  pattern  of  what  a  right  Baptism 
must  be. ' '  And  I  answered, ' '  That,  you  say 
was  the  great,  right  Baptism.    But  please 


REMINISCENCES  57 

tell  me  when  He  repented."  "Why  He 
could  not  repent,  He  had  no  sins  of  His  own 
to  be  repented.''  "Just  what  we  say  of  an 
infant,"  was  my  answer.  "But  that  was 
only  for  an  example,"  he  said.  "What," 
said  I;  "you  say  the  very  act  of  Baptism  is 
a  profession  of  repentance ;  then  Christ  by 
being  baptized  made  a  profession  of  re- 
pentance ;  if  so,  the  profession  was  not  hon- 
est. You  acknowledge  that  it  was  the  great 
pattern  of  right  Baptism,  and  you  acknowl- 
edge that  He  did  not  repent.  I  hope  you 
will  all  keep  your  promise.  Our  bishop  will 
be  with  us  for  Confirmation  in  about  four 
months,  and  I  shall  expect  you  then.  But 
we  have  reached  my  station  and  I  must  leave 
you." 

The  Methodist  minister  at  Adams  was,  as 
I  have  said,  a  regular  attendant  at  our  serv- 
ices. One  Sunday  evening  he  waited  for 
me  at  the  door,  asked  me  to  go  into  his  house 
which  was  very  near,  and  meet  his  wife,  who, 
lie  said,  was  not  a  Methodist,  but  a  communi- 
cant in  the  Episcopal  Church.  On  a  subse- 
quent visit  he  was  telling  me  some  of  his  ex- 
periences ;  and  among  them  of  his  residence 


58  REMINISCENCES 

in  a  certain  city,  where  there  were  two  Epis- 
copal clergymen  and  churches.  One  of 
them,  the  Eev.  Mr.  G.,  he  said  was  an  un- 
usually liberal  man ;  "he  not  only  often  came 
to  our  worship,  but  also  often  asked  us  to 
take  part  in  his,  sometimes  by  offering 
prayer  and  sometimes  by  iDreaching.  It 
seemed  very  liberal." 

Now  the  Rev.  Dr.  S.,  the  other  Church 
clergyman  was  a  man  of  a  different  school. 
I  asked,  "Did  you  know  the  Rev.  Dr.  S.V9 
1 '  Oh,  yes,  very  well. "  "  Did  he  ever  ask  you 
to  take  part  in  his  services?"  and  he  said 
"No."  "Which  of  the  two,"  said  I,  "did 
you  respect  more,  Mr.  G.  or  Dr.  S.?"  "I 
don't  understand,"  was  his  answer.  "You 
said  you  liked  Mr.  G.'s  liberality.  I  am  not 
speaking  of  liking,  but  of  respecting. 
Which  did  you  respect  more?"  And  the 
answer  was, — "Dr.  S.  We  saw  that  he  was 
true  to  the  rules  of  his  own  Church,  wThile 
the  other  was  not." 

That  same  Methodist  minister  proved  a 
great  help  to  me.  There  came  a  strike  on 
the  part  of  our  organist  and  choir.  The  or- 
gan was  a  very  wretched  instrument,  and  it 


REMINISCENCES  59 

was  played  in  such  a  manner  that,  in  the 
chants  especially,  no  one  could  join.  For 
some  weeks  I  adopted  the  method  of  reading 
the  chants,  and  calling  the  congregation  to 
respond  heartily  by  reading;  and  they  did 
so.  The  choir  took  offense,  and  one  even- 
ing as  I  announced  the  hymn  and  waited, 
the  singers,  though  in  their  usual  seats,  re- 
mained silent.  After  a  pause  I  announced 
it  again  and  read  the  first  verse.  Still  no 
answer.  I  saw  that  there  was  a  very  full 
congregation,  and  I  said  that  I  did  not  want 
to  lose  that  part  of  our  worship;  "I  see  a 
good  number  of  Methodist  brethren  here, 
and  they  are  used  to  singing.  The  hymn  is 
of  long  metre ;  Old  Hundred  or  Duke  Street 
wTould  go  well  with  it.  I  would  be  much 
pleased  if  someone  would  lead."  The 
Methodist  minister  rose,  and  some  twenty  or 
more  of  his  own  people,  rose  with  him.  And 
such  good  hearty  singing  as  we  had  then, 
that  little  church  had  never  known  before. 
After  service  the  Methodist  minister  came 
to  me  and  said,  "That  was  grand.  I  will 
stand  by  you.  I  will  be  here,  and  have  some 
of  my  good  singers  with  me." 


60  REMINISCENCES 

The  winters  in  that  northern  region  (al- 
most up  to  the  St.  Lawrence)  were  very  se- 
vere and  very  long.  Beginning  with  deep 
snows  in  November,  they  lasted  all  through 
March,  the  thermometer  often  going  down  to 
20°  below  zero,  and  sometimes  30  or  32. 
But  during  all  my  eleven  years  there  I  did 
not,  more  than  five  times  in  all,  fail  in  an  ap- 
pointment. The  people  soon  recognized  my 
punctuality,  and  by  their  own  they  proved 
their  appreciation.  In  the  severest  weather 
I  was  sure  of  a  fair  congregation.  For  my 
long  cold  rides  I  wore  two  overcoats,  and  two 
pair  of  shoes ;  the  outer  pair  very  loose,  of 
cowhide  with  the  hair  still  remaining  on  the 
inside;  under  my  feet  a  piece  of  soapstone 
well  heated  and  wrapped  in  carpet;  in  my 
lap,  a  piece  of  railroad  iron  heated  and 
wrapped  in  the  same  way.  For  the  first  two 
years  I  had  no  horse  of  my  own.  For  my 
services,  Mr.  Pierrepont  lent  me  one  of  his, 
a  very  old  one,  named  Doctor,  with  the  un- 
derstanding that  on  my  return  in  the  even- 
ing I  was  not  to  take  it  back  to  him,  but 
should  keep  it  in  my  own  barn  until  the  next 
day.    Coming  home  one  night,  about  half 


REMINISCENCES  61 

past  ten,  from  a  service  at  one  of  my  school 
houses,  nine  miles  distant,  I  had  fallen  asleep 
in  my  sleigh.  The  horse,  left  to  his  own 
guidance,  instead  of  going  to  my  barn, 
stopped  at  his  master's  door.  He  shook  his 
bells,  and  the  family,  still  in  their  reading- 
room,  recognized  it,  and  said,  "The  Elder  is 
coming."  (I  was  rarely  called  by  my  own 
name,  almost  always,  "The  Elder,"  as  being 
the  only  resident  minister  in  a  very  large 
district.)  But  I  did  not  go  in.  Again  the 
bells  were  shaken ;  and  after  a  pause  a  third 
time.  Mr.  Pierrepont  came  out,  and  saw  me- 
sitting  in  the  sleigh.  He  called  me,  but  I  did 
not  answer;  called  again  and  still  no  an- 
swer. He  came  and  touched  me,  yet  I  did 
not  move.  Then,  frightened,  he  called  his 
family  and  servants.  They  lifted  me  out, 
slapped  me  with  hands  and  reins,  to  restore 
circulation,  rubbed  my  face  with  snow,  and 
at  last  I  began  to  awake.  The  waking  was 
full  of  pain,  though  the  going  to  sleep  had 
been  painless.  Had  the  good  horse  taken 
me  to  my  own  barn,  the  result  would  have 
been  very  different.  The  thermometer  that 
night  marked  32°  below  zero. 


62  REMINISCENCES 

When  I  went  to  Pierrepont  Manor,  I 
found  the  people  near  it,  almost  all  nomi- 
nally Universalists,  but  practically  indiffer- 
ent and  without  any  religion.  From  our  few 
Church  families  I  could  gather  only  some 
fifteen  children  for  my  Sunday  School.  Dis- 
couraged by  this,  after  my  first  year,  I  said 
to  Mr.  Pierrepont,  "If  I  cannot  get  more 
than  fifteen  children  for  an  hour  on  Sunday, 
I  see  how  I  could  get  at  least  double  that 
number  for  several  hours,  five  days  during 
the  week.  I  want  a  daily  parish  school." 
After  consideration  he  approved  the  idea, 
and  offered  a  site  for  a  schoolhouse,  exactly 
opposite  the  church.  Being  himself  a  prac- 
tical engineer  and  architect,  he  drew  a  plan 
which  I  liked,  and  said,  "It  will  cost  about 
$1,800,  and  I  will  give  it. "  I  said  that  I  did 
not  want  that ;  because  the  people  would  call 
it  Pierrepont 's  School.  I  would  send  out 
an  appeal,  explaining  the  purpose,  and  ask- 
ing contributions.  To  my  pleasant  surprise 
I  secured  some  $200  and  he  gave  the  rest.  I 
secured  a  lady  as  an  excellent  chief  teacher, 
at  a  salary  of  $350,  and  gathered  in  the 
teacher  and  pupils  of  a  little  village  infant 


REMINISCENCES  63 

school.  Then  came  another  pleasant  sur- 
prise. There  were  seats  in  all  for  forty- 
eight  scholars,  and  on  the  opening  day,  fifty 
presented  themselves.  In  the  circular  sent 
out  I  explained  fully  that  it  was  a  Church 
school,  that  there  would  be  daily  worship  and 
religious  instruction,  and  that  both  would  be 
after  the  method  of  the  Prayer  Book;  but 
that  all  would  be  welcome  who  would  con- 
form to  the  rules  of  the  school.  I  was  my- 
self present  and  teaching  for  two  hours 
every  school  day  but  Monday. 

The  school  continued  successfully  for  ten 
years  more,  and  there  being  nothing  to  com- 
pete with  it,  but  a  very  poor  District  School, 
I  soon  commanded  and  controlled  the  young 
life  for  miles  around.  Boys  and  girls  would 
come  in  and  take  places  for  morning  and 
evening  work  in  families,  that  they  might 
attend  the  school.  The  positive  but  plain 
teaching,  based  on  Bible,  Prayer  Book  and 
Catechism  (the  last  being  thoroughly 
taught),  soon  had  effect,  and  the  scholars 
began  voluntarily  to  come  to  church  on  Sun- 
days. Their  parents  followed  them,  and 
my  little  church  accommodating  only  about 


64  BEMINISCENCES 

100,  had  to  be  enlarged  to  double  that  size. 
Many  proofs  of  its  wider  influence  have 
come  to  me;  one  lad,  who  came  as  a  plain 
farm  boy,  became  in  later  years  the  superin- 
tendent of  public  instruction  in  one  of  our 
large  Western  States. 

Among  the  brightest  were  two  brothers, 
seventeen  and  fifteen  years  of  age,  of  a 
family  of  Universalists,  and  themselves 
quite  firm  in  that  direction.  Now  I  had 
made  it  a  rule  of  the  school,  that  in  the  daily 
prayers,  everyone  should  kneel,  and  should 
also  repeat  the  Apostles'  Creed.  After  two 
or  three  months,  I  thought  some  were  not 
obeying.  I  called  attention  to  the  rules,  ex- 
plained their  reasonableness,  and  said  that 
the  next  day  I  would  ask  if  any  failed.  The 
next  morning  after  prayers,  I  said  that  if 
anyone  had  failed  to  say  the  Creed,  or  to 
kneel,  they  would  please  stand.  Five  stood. 
I  again  explained  the  reasonableness,  and 
beginning  with  the  older  of  the  two  brothers, 
I  asked  him  whether  he  would  hereafter 
obey  the  rules,  and  he  said  that  he  could  not. 
His  brother  said  the  same.  All  the  others 
promised  obedience.     Then  speaking  to  the 


REMINISCENCES  65 

older  brother  (Pardon  Williams),  I  said, 
"  Pardon,  yon  have  been  in  all  other  respects 
one  of  my  best  scholars,  and  I  have  been 
much  interested  in  you.  I  should  be  sorry 
to  lose  you.  But  the  good  order  of  the 
school  must  be  maintained.  We  have  been 
personally  good  friends,  and  I  hope  and 
think  we  shall  continue  to  be  so.  But  if  you 
cannot  change  your  mind,  I  must  ask  that 
when  the  school  is  closed  to-day,  you  wTill 
take  your  books  home  and  cease  to  attend 
the  school." 

Two  weeks  later  the  two  brothers  called 
at  my  house,  and  said, — "We  have  made  a 
mistake.  We  cannot  give  up  the  great  ad- 
vantages of  your  teaching.  And  if  you  will 
let  us  return  you  will  have  no  trouble  about 
our  full  obedience." 

Some  twenty-five  years  later,  in  a  steamer 
on  the  St.  Lawrence,  I  recognized  in  a  fel- 
low passenger,  my  former  pupil.  I  went 
to  him  and  he  recognized  me  joyfully.  I 
asked  about  his  life  since,  and  he  said  he  was 
"District  Attorney"  for  his  county,  was  a 
candidate  for  one  of  the  judgeships  in  the 
Supreme  Court  of  the  State,  and  was  quite 


66  REMINISCENCES 

confident  of  his  election.  (He  was  elected.) 
I  asked  where  he  completed  his  education, 
and  he  said,  "  Nowhere  but  in  your  parish 
school.  I  owe  all  I  am  to  that."  I  re- 
minded him  of  his  early  Universalist  convic- 
tions and  asked  whether  he  was  still  firm  in 
those  views.  His  answer  was  that  his  wife 
was  a  conununicant  of  the  Episcopal  Church, 
his  children  all  baptized,  and  he  himself  at- 
tended there  every  Sunday. 

Some  incidents  of  the  life  at  Pierrepont 
Manor  are  worth  recording.  As  at  Clyde 
it  would  have  been  impossible  to  live  on  my 
very  small  salary  were  it  not  for  the  untir- 
ing kindness  of  my  parishioners.  If  the 
hay  in  my  barn  grew  low,  they  found  it  out, 
— and  a  load  soon  arrived.  In  those  long 
cold  winters  we  burned  a  great  quantity  of 
wood;  there  was  no  coal.  For  the  first 
winter  I  bought  a  large  supply,  but  early  in 
the  second  winter,  as  one  of  my  farming 
people,  Mr.  F.,  after  dining  with  us,  stepped 
out  and  looked  around,  he  said,  "Why  your 
wood  is  almost  gone."  And  when  I  said  I 
was  just  about  ordering  thirty  cords,  he  in- 
sisted that  I  must  not  do  it,  until  I  should 


REMINISCENCES  67 

have  heard  further  from  him.  Going  to  Mr. 
Pierrepont,  who  owned  several  thousand 
acres  of  good  wood  land  near  at  hand,  he  told 
him  that  the  rector's  wTood  pile  was  almost 
exhausted,  and  that  he,  Mr.  P.,  could  easily 
spare  from  his  wood  land  all  that  was 
needed ;  and  he  asked  permission  to  have  it 
cut,  offering  himself  to  superintend,  and  to 
see  that  no  damage  was  done.  Mr.  Pierre- 
pont agreed  on  condition  that  it  should  be 
delivered  at  my  door  without  any  cost  to  me. 
Mr.  Eoresman  at  once  arranged  what  he 
called  a  logging-bee.  Some  ten  or  more 
men  volunteered  to  go  out  and  cut  down  the 
trees.  And  in  due  time  I  wTas  notified  that 
they  were  going  to  draw,  and  that  since  it 
was  so  cold,  we  must  have  a  good  supply 
of  hot  coffee,  and  something  to  eat  ready  for 
them  as  they  came  in.  My  door-yard,  by 
no  means  a  small  one,  was  in  two  or  three 
days'  work,  pretty  well  filled  with  maple 
and  beech,  the  best  kinds  of  fire  wood, — in 
long  logs  of  sled  length.  In  thanking  them 
I  asked  how  I  should  get  that  out  of  the  way, 
since,  though  I  split  and  carried  in  my  own 
wood,  I  was  not  able  to  chop  those  great 


68  REMINISCENCES 

logs.  They  named  a  man  some  three  or 
four  miles  distant  who  had  a  horse-power 
saw.  He  agreed  to  saw  it,  and  when  I  asked 
the  price,  he  said,  "Time  enough  to  talk 
about  that."  I  told  him  it  was  necessary 
for  me  to  count  my  money  closely,  and  I 
must  know  beforehand.  "Did  you  think  I 
could  be  as  mean  as  that?"  he  asked. 
"Don't  you  know  me?"  I  did  not.  "Well," 
he  said,  "you  did  not  see  much  of  me,  but 
only  of  my  wife.  But  last  winter  when  my 
children  had  the  diphtheria,  and  almost 
everyone  was  afraid  to  come  near  us,  you  and 
your  wife  came  again  and  again  and  helped 
us  greatly.  I  don't  belong  to  your  church. 
I  am  a  Baptist.  But  I  will  saw  your  wood, 
and  it  shan't  cost  you  a  dollar." 

For  all  my  many  winters  after  in  that 
parish,  the  logging-bee  was  an  annual  cus- 
tom and  my  fuel  cost  me  nothing. 

There  were  many  such  incidents  in  my  life, 
of  "bread  cast  upon  the  waters,  and  return- 
ing after  many  days. ' ' 

Midway  between  Pierrepont  Manor  and 
Adams  there  was  close  by  the  roadside  a 
small  house  where  a  young  laboring  man  and 


KEMINISCENCES  69 

his  wife  were  living  very  plainly.  I 
passed  that  house  every  Sunday  in  going  to 
and  returning  from  my  evening  service  at 
Adams.  Learning  that  the  wife  was  very 
ill,  and  that  they  had  no  friends,  I  stopped 
there  one  Sunday  evening  on  my  way  to 
church,  talked  writh  them,  and  offered  to 
pray  with  them.  But  it  seemed  as  if  my 
visit  was  not  welcome,  and  they  did  not  like 
the  prayers.  The  next  Sunday,  taking  my 
wife  with  me,  I  left  her  at  the  house  of  sick- 
ness to  wait  and  help  there,  until  I  went  on 
to  the  church  at  Adams  and  returned;  and 
little  by  little  we  found  our  way  to  their 
confidence.  Nearly  twenty  years  later,  when 
I  was  rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Epiphany 
in  Washington,  I  was  walking  far  out  in  the 
suburbs  to  visit  a  sick  person.  There  was  a 
heavy  blizzard  of  hail.  My  cap  was  pulled 
down,  my  collar  turned  up,  leaving  nothing 
visible  but  my  eyes.  A  mounted  policeman 
rode  past  me,  and  as  he  glanced  at  me,  he 
slackened  his  pace,  looked  at  me  again,  and 
finally  drew  up  to  the  sidewalk  and  stopped. 
As  I  reached  him  I  asked,  "Did  you  want 
me?"    And  he  said,  "Yes,  is  your  name 


70  REMINISCENCES 

Paret?"  And  on  my  answer  he  asked 
whether  I  did  not  remember  him.  I  con- 
fessed that  I  did  not.  "Did  you  ever  know 
Alf  Tredway  ? ' '  he  asked ;  and  when  I  said  I 
remembered  the  name  many  years  back,  he 
said  that  I  ought  to  remember  the  little 
house  where  I  stopped  so  often  on  my  way  to 
Adams,  to  help  and  encourage  a  young  man 
and  his  wife  who  were  in  much  distress ;  and 
that  he  was  that  man,  Alf  Tredway,  and 
could  never  forget  me. 

While  at  Pierrepont  Manor  I  was  a  very 
earnest  trout-fisherman,  and  regularly  from 
May  1st  to  November  1st,  gave  every  Mon- 
day to  that.  It  was  a  duty,  a  necessity  for 
health  of  body  and  of  mind,  for  Monday  was 
my  only  rest  day.  Rising  at  five,  I  drove 
seven  or  eight  miles  to  reach  the  trout 
streams,  reaching  home  again  at  about  dark, 
and  always  with  a  good  basketful  of  fish ;  for 
the  trout  were  abundant,  the  country  was 
wild,  and  there  were  only  two  or  three  be- 
side myself  who  went  after  them.  To  reach 
one  of  my  best  trout  streams,  I  drove  some 
six  miles,  turned  into  a  wood  road  for  two 
miles,  and  stopped  at  a  log  cabin  occupied  by 


REMINISCENCES  71 

Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  a  very  aged  Irish  woman, 
and  her  two  middle  aged,  unmarried  sons. 
They  were  very  hospitable,  took  care  of  my 
horse,  and  had  a  bowl  of  bread  and  milk 
ready  for  me  in  the  evening.  But  I  was  a 
fisher  of  men,  as  well  as  a  fisher  for  trout, 
and  the  two  went  well  together.  After  a  few 
weeks'  acquaintance  I  asked  the  good  old 
lady  if  she  ever  went  to  church.  "Sure, 
how  could  IT "  she  said;  "they  have  what 
they  call  meetings  and  revivals  at  the  school- 
house,  but  I  can't  worship  that  way.  If  I 
could  find  a  church  of  my  own  I  would  go." 
I  asked  what  church  she  meant  and  she  took 
from  a  high  shelf  a  book  which  she  handed 
to  me,  saying, ' '  That  will  show  you. ' '  It  was 
a  Prayer  Book  of  the  Church  of  Ireland.  I 
told  her  she  could  find  her  Church  at  Pierre- 
pont  Manor,  only  seven  or  eight  miles  away, 
and  in  proof  I  showed  her  my  Prayer  Book, 
and  told  her  I  was  the  minister.  With  tears 
streaming  she  kneeled  and  kissed  my  hand, 
and  said  that  if  she  was  a  living  woman  the 
next  Sunday  the  boys  should  take  her  there. 
And  at  least  once  a  month  after  that,  she  was 
at  church.     She  had  also  a  married  son  liv- 


72  REMINISCENCES 

ing  in  the  neighborhood,  and  his  four  chil- 
dren had  not  been  baptized.  I  soon  had  a 
service  in  her  log  cabin,  inviting  the  neigh- 
bors, baptized  the  four  children,  and  ex- 
plained the  need  and  the  blessing.  Going 
out  occasionally  for  services  and  instructions 
I  soon  had  the  pleasure  of  baptizing  a  num- 
ber of  other  children,  and  several  adult  per- 
sons. And  years  later  after  I  had  left  that 
neighborhood,  I  learned  that  a  neat  chapel 
had  been  built  at  the  corners,  and  was  used 
as  a  mission  of  the  Church  at  the  Manor. 

Besides  my  trout  fishing,  for  many  years 
I  took  August  as  a  vacation,  taking  my  own 
horse  and  wagon  and  two  of  my  parishioners 
as  companions,  and  driving  some  forty  or 
more  miles  into  the  southwestern  part  of  the 
Adirondack  Woods  or  John  Brown's  Tract. 
There  were  no  Adirondack  hotels  then.  We 
built  our  own  bark  shanty,  made  our  own 
beds  of  hemlock  branches,  cut  our  own  wood, 
and  did  all  our  own  work.  And  now  as  I 
am  writing  this  in  my  84th  year,  I  am  sure 
that  I  owe  my  good  health  and  long  life, 
under  God's  Providence,  to  my  long  drives 
and  walks,  my  hard  pastoral  work,  my  fish- 


REMINISCENCES  73 

ing,  and  the  open-air  life  to  which  all  these 
led  me.  It  was  a  very  happy  life;  and 
many  years  later,  after  experience  in  city 
parishes,  including  Washington,  I  asked  my 
wife,  in  which  of  our  homes  she  had  been 
most  contented,  and  she  answered  that  she 
thought  our  happiest  days  were  those  of  the 
very  plain  life  at  Pierrepont  Manor. 

There  were  some  amusing  things  in  my 
stay  there.  I  have  said  that  I  was  the  only 
resident  minister  in  a  very  large  region. 
But  after  a  while  there  came  for  temporary 
stay,  a  man  named  Taft,  wTho  practised  sev- 
eral callings.  He  sold  tinware,  bought 
sheepskins,  practised  medicine,  and  on  Sun- 
days preached  in  the  district  schoolhouse. 
One  day  he  came  to  me  saying  that  he  was 
reading  a  book  about  the  Episcopal  Church, 
which  had  some  quotations  in  Latin  and 
Greek  from  what  is  called  the  early  Fathers. 
And  since  he  did  not  understand  those  lan- 
guages he  asked  me  to  write  out  the  transla- 
tion for  him.  I  did  so,  and  soon  after  I 
found  that  the  book  was  written  as  an  at- 
tack on  the  Church.  Armed  with  that  he 
announced  that  he  was  going  to  preach  five 


74  REMINISCENCES 

or  six  sermons  exposing  the  errors  of  the 
Episcopal  Church.  In  his  second  or  third 
sermon  he  began  using  his  quotations,  saying 
i '  On  this  point  Tertullian  says ' '  &c.  But  he 
pronounced  the  name  as  if  it  were  Turtle- 
lion,  and  after  two  or  three  uses  of  it,  one 
of  the  good  countrywomen  said  to  her  neigh- 
bor, "I  wonder  if  it  is  anything  like  a  Camel- 
leopard.  ' '  And  a  little  laugh  passed  around. 
Presently  he  passed  to  another  of  the  early 
Fathers,  with  the  words,  "On  this  point  Cy- 
prian says,"  etc.  And  again  he  mispro- 
nounced the  name,  as  if  it  were  "Si-pran," 
and  to  the  same  good  woman  after  the  sec- 
ond use,  it  suggested  the  familiar  play 
of  "Simon  says  up,  Simon  says  down,  Simon 
says  wiggle,"  and  soon  planting  her  thumb 
on  her  knee,  she  said  "Simon  says  up." 
The  hint  took,  and  several  thumbs  followed. 
At  the  next  use  of  the  same,  she  turned  her 
hand  saying,  "Simon  says  down;"  and  five 
or  six  imitated  her.  "When  it  came  to 
"Simon  says  wiggle,"  the  preacher  noticed 
it,  and  closing  his  book  in  anger,  he  said, i '  I 
have  been  insulted  while  preaching  the 
Gospel,  and  until  an  apology  is  made,  I  will 


REMINISCENCES  75 

not  preach  here  again.' '  No  apology  was 
made,  and  his  preaching  at  that  place  was 
ended.  The  same  man's  medical  practise 
will  illustrate  many  things  that  I  had  to 
meet  among  uneducated  quacks.  In  a  farm 
house  near  the  rectory,  was  a  young  man 
very  low  with  consumption.  I  was  in  the 
habit  of  visiting  him  almost  daily ;  and  one 
morning  I  found  the  tin  and  sheepskin 
wagon  at  the  door.  Going  in  I  found  the 
family  and  some  friends  standing  around  the 
walls  of  the  sittingroom;  while  in  the  cen- 
ter sat  the  sick  man  supported  by  others, 
and  opposite  him,  their  knees  touching,  sat 
Mr.  Taft.  Both  were  bent  forward,  so  that 
the  tops  of  their  heads  touched.  Presently 
he  looked  up,  and  to  my  question  as  to  what 
he  was  doing  he  said,  "I  was  making  an  ob- 
servation of  this  case."  And  when  I  asked 
an  explanation  he  said,  "You  know  that  I 
practise  medicine  on  spiritualistic  princi- 
ples; and  when  we  get  into  what  is  called 
*  report'  the  organ  of  vision  is  the  top  of 
the  head."  "Do  you  mean  that  you  could 
see?"  "Saw  clean  through  him,  way  to 
his  boots. "    "  You  could  see  his  lungs  then, ' ' 


76  EEMINISCENCES 

I  said,  "and  the  trouble  is  there?"  "Not 
at  all,"  he  answered.  "His  lungs  are  as 
sound  as  yours  or  mine.  But  you  know  he 
has  a  portable  sawmill  down  in  the  woods, 
and  he  hurt  himself  there.  In  lifting  some 
heavy  logs,  he  bust  his  diaphragm.  That 
is  all." 


FKOM  1864  TO  1869 


CHAPTER  V 

from  1864  to  1869 

But  happy  as  that  active  life  was  at  the 
Manor,  the  time  came  when  it  was  a  duty  to 
leave  it.  My  children  were  reaching  an  age 
when  they  needed  better  opportunities  for 
education  than  they  could  get  at  home.  And 
on  a  salary  of  six  hundred  and  fifty  dollars, 
boarding  schools  were  out  of  possibility. 
So  when  an  unexpected  call  came  to  me  from 
a  Western  city,  offering  me  $1,800  a  year  I 
accepted  it,  and  removed  to  East  Saginaw 
in  Michigan.4  My  stay  there  was  not  long, 
only  some  two  years,  and  was  marked  by 
few  things  save  continual  family  sickness. 
One  incident,  however,  is  worth  recording. 
There  were  very  large  lumber  camps  a  few 
miles  out  of  the  city.  I  had  found  a  lumber- 
man, very  ill  with  consumption,  at  one  of 
the  very  low  city  taverns,  where  he  had  no 

4  This  was  in  1864. 


80  KEMINISCENCES 

comfort  and  no  care.  Two  ladies  of  the 
parish,  at  my  request,  visited  and  helped 
him ;  and  before  he  died,  I  had  the  happiness 
of  baptizing  him  as  one  truly  penitent.  At 
his  burial  fifty  or  sixty  of  the  men  from 
camp  came  to  the  church.  Some  three  months 
later,  returning  at  10  p.  m.  on  Sunday  from 
an  exchange  with  a  neighboring  clergyman, 
and  passing  through  the  city  toward  my  own 
house  on  the  further  side,  I  was  stopped  by 
the  Mayor  and  Chief  of  Police  who  told  me 
I  could  not  go  on;  that  several  hundred 
lumbermen  were  in  the  city  on  a  strike,  had 
become  a  drunken  mob,  and  threatened 
every  man  who  approached  them.  I  in- 
sisted on  seeing  for  myself,  and  they  ac- 
companied me  a  little  nearer.  Slipping 
away  from  them,  I  entered  the  crowd,  hop- 
ing to  pass  through,  but  I  was  seized  and 
whirled  about,  seized  again  by  another  and 
whirled,  then  as  he  was  about  to  repeat  it,  he 
saw  my  face,  and  asked : 

"Are  you  not  the  parson  that  took  care  of 
Jim?" 

"If  you  mean  the  man  who  was  sick  at  the 
Lone  Star  Tavern,  I  am." 


BEMINISCENCES  81 

"Boys,"  he  said,  "I  told  you  of  the  par- 
son who  took  care  of  Jim.  Here  he  is. 
Hats  off,  boys." 

And  every  head  was  uncovered. 

"What  do  you  want,  Parson?" 

"My  wife  and  children  are  over  there  on 
the  hill,  I  know  they  are  frightened,  and  I 
must  get  to  them." 

"Make  a  lane,  boys!" 

And  he,  and  one  other  led  me  through  to 
my  own  house.  Half  an  hour  later  that 
mob  had  dispersed  and  all  was  quiet. 

Western  New  York  was  calling  me  back, 
and  I  gladly  left  a  city  of  great  unhealthi- 
ness  and  very  low  morals,  and  became 
Bector  of  Trinity  Church,  Elmira,  N.  Y. 
My  stay  there  was  made  very  pleasant  by 
my  happy  association  with  the  Bev.  Thos. 
K.  Beecher,  an  eminent  Congregational 
minister,  a  brother,  or  possibly  a  half 
brother  of  Henry  Ward  Beecher.  His 
church  was  on  the  corner  diagonally  across 
from  mine.  Some  ten  days  after  reaching 
Elmira,  I  was  in  a  store  purchasing  furni- 
ture fcr  the  rectory,  when  the  merchant 
came  to  me  saying,  "Tom  Beecher  is  here, 


82  REMINISCENCES 

— (I  beg  pardon,  the  Eev.  Mr.  Beecher,  but 
we  always  call  him  Tom) ,  and  he  wants  much 
to  be  introduced  to  you,  if  you  will  permit 
it."  I  expressed  my  pleasure,  and  we  met. 
After  some  ten  minutes  of  conversation, 
Mr.  Beecher  said  that  perhaps  he  ought  to 
apologize ;  I  might  think  he  had  been  study- 
ing me.  I  said  that,  on  the  contrary,  the 
interview  was  very  pleasant  indeed,  and  I 
hoped  it  might  lead  to  many  others. 
"But,"  said  he,  "I  have  been  studying  you; 
I  began  to  study  when  I  first  heard  that  you 
were  coming,  and  I  have  been  studying  you 
since,  and  somewhat  selfishly.  I  am  going 
away  in  two  or  three  weeks  on  a  voyage  by 
a  sailing  vessel  to  San  Francisco.  I  shall 
be  gone  eight  months  or  more.  Our  trustees 
have  made  no  arrangements  for  continuing 
services  while  I  am  absent,  and  I  fear  they 
will  not  do  so  soon,  now  why  cannot  you 
preach  to  both  congregations'?"  On  look- 
ing and  speaking  my  surprise,  he  said  that 
he  was  fully  in  earnest,  if  he  ever  was  in  his 
life,  and  really  meant  and  wished  it.  I  an- 
swered that  if  he  really  wished  it,  I  might 
do  it  in  one  way;  that  my  church  was  very 


EBMINISCENCES  83 

large,  large  enough  I  thought  to  have  room 
for  both  congregations ;  and  that  my  people 
scattered  by  long  vacancy  in  pastorship  were 
very  few;  that  I  would  take  the  responsi- 
bility to  declare  our  pews  free  during  his 
absence;  and  I  would  be  glad  to  have  him 
give  my  love  to  his  people,  and  assure  them 
of  a  hearty  welcome.  "But  as  for  the  week 
day  work,"  I  said,  "the  work  from  house 
to  house,  I  fear  I  could  not  undertake  that. 
It  will  take  all  my  time  to  hunt  and  find  and 
bring  my  own  scattered  flock." 

"Week  day  work?  House  to  house?"  he 
answered.  "Yes,  you  are  a  priest  and 
pastor,  I  am  only  a  preacher.  You  are  a 
rightly  ordained  minister ;  I  am  only  a  Sun- 
day lecturer.  I  would  no  more  think  of  go- 
ing around  to  inquire  into  the  spiritual  state 
of  my  people,  than  a  dentist  would  go  and 
ask  to  look  at  their  teeth." 

The  Sunday  before  his  voyage  he  said  to 
his  people:  "This  is  my  last  worship  with 
you  for  some  time.  Our  trustees  have,  as 
yet,  made  no  provision  for  services.  But 
I  beg  ^ou,  do  not  scatter  to  the  four  winds. 
Keep  together,  and  do  not  go  far  away  from 


84  REMINISCENCES 

home.  There  is  an  excellent  place  on  the 
opposite  corner,  called  Trinity  Church.  I 
have  had  a  conference  with  the  rector.  He 
sends  his  love  to  you,  and  says  there  will  be 
free  seats  and  a  hearty  welcome  for  you.  I 
advise  you  to  go  there.  You  will  like  the 
worship  and  it  will  help  you." 

They  took  him  at  his  word  and  came  in 
very  large  numbers.  On  his  voyage  he 
sent  back  letters  to  his  people,  which  were 
published  in  one  of  the  daily  papers.  In 
the  first  one  he  said  he  was  reading  Froude's 
History  of  England,  with  which  he  was 
greatly  pleased  because  of  the  light  it  shed 
on  the  Prayer  Book.  "And  don't  be 
alarmed,  dear  Congregational  friends,  be- 
cause I  tell  my  love  for  the  Prayer  Book. 
When  I  travel,  my  Bible  and  my  Prayer 
Book  go  together."  His  second  letter  was 
sent  from  Rio.  He  said  that  reaching  there 
Sunday  morning  he  asked  the  Captain  where 
he  could  go  to  Church,  "and  please  note," 
he  said,  "that  I  spell  Church  with  a  capital 
C.  It  is  all  very  well  to  be  a  Congregation- 
alist,  when  you  are  among  your  personal 
friends,  who  can  give  you  their  personal 


REMINISCENCES  85 

support.  But  if  you  are  abroad  in  the 
world,  and  want  Christian  privilege  or 
sympathy,  you  must  be  a  member  of  a 
CHURCH,  which  can  go  with  you  the  world 
over,  and  has  a  history  to  stand  on  way 
back  to  the  first  Apostles.  You  must  be  a 
member  either  of  the  Roman  Catholic  or  of 
the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church.  And 
since  I  cannot  be  the  former,  when  I  travel 
I  am  a  Churchman.  The  Captain  advised 
me  to  go  to  the  Chapel  of  the  English  Em- 
bassy, and  I  did  so.  The  service  was  all 
sung,  but  so  simply  that  I  was  soon  able  to 
take  my  part.  I  said  the  Confession,  took 
home  to  myself  the  Absolution,  heard  a  good 
plain  Gospel  sermon  and  went  away  much 
helped  by  it.  And  so  will  all  of  you,  dear 
friends,  if  with  real  wish  to  worship  you  do 
it  with  a  Prayer  Book." 

A  fortnight  after  his  return  I  visited  him ; 
and  he  said,  "Well,  my  people  took  me  at 
my  word."  And  when  I  said  yes,  that  they 
came  in  good  numbers,  he  said  that  he  saw 
they  had  not  all  come  back  to  him.  I  an- 
swered that  some  five  or  six  families  seemed 
to  linger,  but  that  I  had  not  tried  to  keep 


86  REMINISCENCES 

them.  I  had  even  abstained  from  visiting 
his  people  unless  there  was  sickness,  or 
some  special  request.  ' '  I  know  it, ' '  he  said ; 
"but  I  am  glad  they  are  staying.  And  if  I 
could  have  my  way  we  would  all  be  back  in 
the  old  Church  we  ought  never  to  have  left." 
And  when  I  asked  why  he  did  not  come,  he 
said,  "  Because  I  am  a  Beecher.  I  cannot 
work  in  harness.  I  should  kick  over  the 
traces  and  make  you  a  great  deal  of  trouble. ' ' 

Our  close  association  continued.  He  was 
at  my  house  or  I  at  his  almost  every  week. 
On  one  occasion  he  found  me  lying  on  a 
lounge  in  my  study  suffering  from  a  heavy 
cold.  "Has  Brother  H.  (the  rector  of  the 
other  church)  been  to  see  you?"  I  an- 
swered no,  that  I  was  not  sick  enough  for 
that.    "Then  he  has  failed  in  his  duty." 

"No,"  I  answered,  "if  there  was  any  fail- 
ure it  was  mine,  for  the  Prayer  Book  says 
that  when  anyone  is  sick  notice  shall  be 
given  to  the  minister;  and  I  did  not  give 
notice." 

He  presently  asked  for  a  Prayer  Book, 
and  having  it  he  found  the  place  he  was 
seeking,  and  said  to  me,  "I  have  opened  at 


REMINISCENCES  87 

the  Office  for  the  Visitation  of  the  Sick. 
Do  you  think  it  would  lose  any  of  its  efficacy 
if  it  was  said  by  Congregational  lips?  I 
would  like  to  read  it  to  you."  I  welcomed 
the  suggestion,  and  he  went  through  it  very 
earnestly,  kneeling  at  the  prayers,  and 
standing  to  say  the  Creed. 

Some  weeks  later  he  told  me  that  there 
was  a  family  in  his  congregation  which  did 
not  belong  there,  but  belonged  to  me,  and  he 
wanted  me  to  go  after  them.  They  were 
English;  not  poor,  nor  ignorant,  but  good 
and  useful.  He  said  that  going  through  his 
Sunday  School  he  noticed  a  newcomer. 
Asking  his  name,  the  answer  was,  "  Ed- 
ward." "Who  gave  you  this  name?"  was 
the  next  question,  and  the  lad  answered, 
"My  godfathers  and  godmothers  in  Bap- 
tism." "You  do  not  belong  here,"  was 
Mr.  Beecher's  answer,  and  the  lad  said, 
"They  told  us  that  this  was  the  English 
Church."  "Yes,"  said  Mr.  Beecher,  "we 
speak  English,  but  you  mean  the  Church  of 
England.  That  is  over  on  the  other  corner, 
and  I  will  ask  the  minister  to  find  you." 

After  awhile,  in  his  impulsive  way,  he 


88  BEMINISCENCES 

tried  to  bring  the  Prayer  Book  into  use  in 
his  own  congregation.  He  said  one  Sun- 
day, that  he  had  been  with  them  many  years, 
and  they  had  made  him  do  all  the  work. 
They  ought  to  help  him  more.  How  ?  Per- 
haps they  would  like  to  take  part  in  the 
preaching,  but  he  wanted  to  keep  that  to 
himself.  But  they  might  help  him  in  pray- 
ing. Hitherto  he  had  prayed  alone  and 
they  had  listened.  He  wanted  them  to  pray 
with  him.  6 i  If  so,  we  must  all  say  the  same 
thing,  must  agree  on  the  words ;  there  must 
be  a  form  for  the  prayers.  And  a  form  of 
prayers  is  a  Liturgy.  Now,  I  have  seen 
many  books  called  Liturgies,  but  there  is 
only  one  book  in  the  English  language  which 
is  worthy  of  the  name,  and  that  is  the  Book 
of  Common  Prayer.  It  was  composed — I 
beg  pardon,  it  was  not  composed.  It  grew. 
It  began  to  grow  when  the  New  Testament 
did."  And  then  after  giving  a  grand  eu- 
logy of  the  Prayer  Book,  he  said:  "Now,  I 
have  asked  the  book-sellers  to  get  a  hundred 
cheap  copies  of  it.  I  want  you  to  buy  them. 
I  will  not  ask  you  to  bring  them  here  just 
yet,  but  on  pages  4  and  5  you  will  find  what  is 


KEMINISCENCES  89 

called  the  General  Confession.  I  want  you 
to  commit  that  to  memory.  I  will  give  you 
two  weeks.  And,  by  the  way,  if  any  of  you 
do  not  know  the  Lord's  Prayer,  you  will 
find  it  right  after  it.  And  two  weeks  from 
to-day  we  will  begin  to  use  it  here,  all  speak- 
ing together.  But  how?  Over  at  Trinity 
Church  where  they  do  it  well,  they  all  kneel. 
But  Congregational  knees  are  stiff,  and  we 
are  used  to  stand  while  praying.  Now,  I 
read  that  the  Lord  kneeled  down  when  he 
prayed,  and  that  St.  Paul  kneeled  to  pray 
on  the  seashore.  But  if  any  of  you  feel 
that  you  can  confess  your  sins  more  truly 
and  humbly  while  standing,  do  so.  For  my 
part,  I  will  kneel  as  the  Lord  did." 

Some  four  months  after  Mr.  Beecher's 
sailing,  his  brother,  the  Eev.  James  Beecher, 
came  to  take  his  place.  Some  of  the  Con- 
gregationalists  went  back,  but  at  least  one- 
half  stayed  with  me. 

One  day  I  was  called  into  the  parlor  to  see 
a  lady  and  gentleman.  The  man  introduced 
himself  as  "  James  Beecher,  brother  of 
Tom,  whom  I  think  you  know.  At  least  he 
knows  you,  and  says  he  loves  you.     I  have 


90  REMINISCENCES 

come  to  take  his  place  until  his  return." 
Then  introducing  the  lady  as  his  wife,  he 
added,  "My  wife  is  not  a  Congregationalist, 
but  an  Episcopalian  (I  beg  pardon,  my 
dear,  I  should  have  said  Churchwoman,  but 
I  do  not  often  make  that  mistake).  She 
has  come  to  ask  pastoral  advice.  I  will  go 
into  your  study,  if  you  permit,  while  she 
talks  with  you." 

She  said,  "Yes,  I  attend  my  husband's 
services  generally;  but  always  on  the  first 
Sunday  of  the  month,  and  the  holy  days,  I 
go  to  my  own  Church  for  the  Holy  Com- 
munion. Now,  my  husband  has  his  Con- 
gregational Sunday  School  at  his  church; 
but  we  live  some  two  miles  out  of  town,  and 
there  are  many  neglected  children  there.  I 
have  gathered  forty  or  fifty,  and  am  going 
to  have  a  Sunday  School.  I  am  to  be 
superintendent,  and  my  husband  is  to  be 
one  of  the  teachers.  I  want  your  advice, 
that  it  may  be  as  much  like  yours  as  possible. 
What  prayers  and  what  hymns  shall  we  use  ? 
What  books'?  What  order  of  studies'? 
And  if  you  could  visit  it  sometimes  we  would 
be  very  glad." 


KEMINISCENCES  91 

I  arranged  a  full  program,  and  Mr. 
Beecher,  returning  to  the  room,  said  that 
he  understood  and  approved  all  that  his 
wife  was  doing;  that  out  there  he  would  be 
a  thorough  Churchman,  and  teach  just  as 
I  wanted  him  to  do.  "By  the  way,"  he 
asked,  "is  your  Bishop  coming  before  long 
for  Confirmation ?"  And  when  I  said  that 
he  was  expected  in  about  three  months,  he 
asked  whether  if  they  got  some  children 
ready  to  be  confirmed,  they  might  bring 
them.  Surprised,  I  said,  "Yes,  certainly, 
but  first  I  must  examine  them." 

"You  want  them  to  know  your  Catechism. 
I  know  it  by  heart,  and  love  it.  I  will  see 
that  they  know  it,  and  will  try  to  give  any 
special  instruction  about  it  that  you  wish." 

About  ten  days  before  the  Confirmation, 
they  brought  me  fourteen  children.  I 
found  them  admirably  taught,  and  on  the 
day  of  Confirmation,  after  my  own  candi- 
dates had  been  presented,  they  brought 
up  and  presented  their  fourteen. 

Mr.  James  Beecher  at  that  first  interview 
told  me  of  a  remarkable  incident  in  his  own 
life.    He  said  that  his  first  receiving  of 


92  BEMINISCENCES 

the  Holy  Communion,  and  his  first  two 
years  of  communicant  life,  was  in  the 
Episcopal  Church,  and  it  always  seemed 
home  to  him;  that  during  our  Civil  War 
he  had  been  a  chaplain  in  the  United 
States  Army,  but  grew  out  of  that  into 
active  service,  and  became  colonel,  and 
acting  brigadier  general.  He  was  sta- 
tioned for  some  time  in  one  of  the  South- 
ern States,  and  while  there  regularly  at- 
tended the  Episcopal  Church  and  received 
the  Communion.  He  became  very  intimate 
with  the  aged  rector,  who  came  to  him  later 
to  ask  a  pass  for  a  friend  who  wished  to  go 
North.  Beecher  knew  that  it  was  to  get 
supplies  and  information,  and  he  was  obliged 
to  refuse.  This  displeased  the  rector,  and 
made  him  ready  to  receive  the  reports  and 
insinuations  which  soldiers  were  always 
ready  to  give.  A  friend  came  to  Mr. 
Beecher  and  told  him  that  the  rector  had 
said  that  should  Mr.  Beecher  present  him- 
self again  for  Communion,  he  would  not 
administer  to  him. 

The     next     Communion     Sunday     Mr. 
Beecher  was  in  his  usual  place  in  church, 


REMINISCENCES  93 

and  after  all  the  others  had  received,  and 
the  clergyman  paused  to  see  if  others  were 
coming,  Mr.  Beecher  rose  and  said,  "  Rev- 
erend sir,  I  am  informed  that  you  have 
said  that  if  I  should  present  myself  for 
the  Holy  Communion  you  would  not  ad- 
minister to  me.  And  in  the  Name  of  Him 
who  died  on  the  cross  for  sinners,  for  you, 
and  for  me,  I  ask  what  grievous  crime  is 
charged  against  me,  by  reason  of  which 
I  may  not  be  permitted  to  receive  the  Body 
and  Blood  of  my  Lord?" 

There  was  a  silence  of  two  or  three  min- 
utes. The  rector  grew  very  pale,  his  color 
came  back,  and  drawing  a  full  breath  he 
said,  "  Ye  who  do  truly  and  earnestly  repent 
you  of  your  sins,  and  are  in  love  and  charity 
with  your  neighbors,  and  intend  to  lead  a 
new  life  .  .  .  draw  near  with  faith  and 
take  this  holy  Sacrament  to  your  comfort." 
He  went  forward,  received,  and  they  were 
good  friends  again. 


RECTORSHIP   AT    CHRIST'S 
CHURCH,  WILLIAMSPORT, 

PENNA,  1868-1876 


CHAPTER  VI 

RECTORSHIP  AT  CHRIST  CHURCH,  WILLIAMS- 
PORT,  PENNA.,  1868-1876 

I  was  willing  after  a  time  to  leave  Elmira, 
and  when  a  call  came  (utterly  unsought)  to 
the  rectorship  of  Christ  Church,  Williams- 
port,  Penna.,  I  promptly  accepted  it,5  and 
there  I  passed  eight  years  of  happy,  and  I 
think  useful  work. 

The  financial  arrangement  was  very  pe- 
culiar. My  predecessor  had  been  called  at 
a  salary  of  $1,000  and  rectory  to  a  pew- 
rented  church.  He  declined  that  arrange- 
ment, but  said  that  if  they  would  let  him 
take  off  the  pew  doors,  make  the  seats  all 
free,  and  put  a  card  in  each  pew  explaining 
that  all  morning  offerings  would  go  to  the 
rector's  salary,  and  the  evening  offerings 
must  supply  needs  for  mission,  charity,  and 
parish  expenses,  he  would  come.  The 
vestry  demurred,  saying  it  would  not  pro- 

5  1868  to  1876. 


98  REMINISCENCES 

vide  the  $1,000.  But  on  his  insisting,  they 
yielded.  The  first  year  the  morning  offer- 
ings were  $1,100,  the  second  year  still  larger ; 
and  in  rny  first  year  they  reached  $1,800. 
And  I  had  a  vestry  and  people  who  stood  by 
me  lovingly. 

Among  many  pleasant  experiences  with 
neighboring  ministers,  was  one  with  a 
Methodist  Minister.  A  committee  includ- 
ing a  Presbyterian,  a  Congregationalist, 
and  a  Baptist  Minister,  called  on  me  ask- 
ing my  signature  to  a  document  which 
claimed  to  be  a  protest  from  "the  clergy  of 
the  city,"  against  certain  things  which  were 
thought  to  be  in  use  at  the  Methodist  camp 
meeting  grounds  some  miles  out  of  the  city. 
The  protest  was  very  severe  indeed  in  its 
terms,  asserting  that  the  Methodists  in 
charge  were  violating  Christian  principles 
and  dishonoring  our  Lord,  by  permitting 
milk,  ice  and  other  necessaries  to  be  delivered 
on  Sunday.  I  declined  to  sign,  giving  as 
one  reason,  that  I  had  no  knowledge  in  the 
case.  "But  we  assure  you  of  the  facts," 
they  said.  And  my  answer  was  that  when 
I  signed  a  paper  it  was  understood  to  be 


EEMINISCENCES  99 

on  my  own  personal  knowledge,  and  that 
besides,  I  counted  their  government  of  their 
own  religious  assemblies  and  usages,  as 
matters  of  their  responsibility  and  not  of 
mine;  that  we,  of  the  Episcopal  Church, 
were  sometimes  charged  with  exclusiveness, 
but  it  was  because  we  believed  in  minding 
our  own  business,  and  leaving  others  free 
for  theirs.  And  in  spite  of  urging,  I  de- 
clined to  sign. 

Not  long  after  I  was  stopped  on  the  street 
by  one  who  introduced  himself  as  the  Metho- 
dist Presiding  Elder.  He  said  he  had  re- 
ceived that  protest,  and  noticed  that  my 
name  was  not  signed.  He  asked  whether 
my  signature  had  been  asked,  and,  if  so, 
whether  I  had  refused  it,  and  why.  I  gave 
him  my  reasons,  as  I  have  given  them  above. 
Again  grasping  my  hand,  he  thanked  me, 
and  said,  "I  do  not  care  a  fig  for  their  pro- 
test, but  I  do  care  for  and  want  your  judg- 
ment. Let  me  tell  you  all  that  we  do  at 
that  camp  meeting  ground;  and  if  you  say 
that  any  of  it  is  really  wrong,  it  shall  be 
changed."  But  I  kindly  and  firmly  ad- 
hered to  my  position  of  not  interfering;  and 


100  REMINISCENCES 

the  relations  between  the  Methodists  and 
myself  were  very  kind. 

The  Roman  Priest,  Father  Stack,  once 
proposed  to  me  a  clerical  hunting  party, 
there  being  many  pigeons  and  squirrels  close 
at  hand.  I  said  that  twelve  or  fourteen 
ministers  going  together  with  guns  on  their 
shoulders  would  alarm  the  people,  and  I 
suggested  hunting  in  couples.  I  took  the 
Methodist  Minister,  the  Rev.  Mr.  E.,  after- 
wards well  known  as  a  Presiding  Elder. 
We  tramped  the  woods  for  several  hours. 
Game  was  plentiful,  but  we  were  too  busy 
in  talking  to  see  much  of  it.  I  shot  one  pig- 
eon, and  he  one  squirrel.  He  had  said  to 
me  that  he  wanted  to  ask  me  a  question,  and 
get  a  short,  sharp  answer,  without  any  ifs 
or  buts.  I  agreed,  on  condition  that  I  might 
ask  a  question  and  get  the  same  kind  of  an- 
swer. The  first  question  falling  to  my  lot,  I 
said,  "If  John  Wesley  were  to  return  to  life 
and  live  in  Williamsport,  would  he  go  to 
your  Church,  or  go  to  mine  ? ' '  "  That  needs 
some  explanation,"  he  said;  and  I  said,  "No 
ifs  or  buts ! "  "I  give  it  up, — Wesley  would 
go  to  yours."    "Why  then,"  I  asked,  "if 


EEMINISCENCES  101 

you  are  a  follower  of  John  Wesley,  do  you 
not  follow  him  in  that  respect  ?"  His  an- 
swer was  ingenious:  "Wesley  was  a  blind 
instrument  in  the  hand  of  Providence.  God 
used  him  to  open  a  wide  door,  and  we  went 
through  it." 

The  new  Christ  Church,  half  built  when  I 
went  there,  but  completed  during  my  first 
years,  was  an  excellent  stone  building,  and 
well  filled  not  only  by  the  wealthier  people, 
but,  to  my  great  pleasure,  by  a  large  num- 
ber of  the  men  and  their  families  who 
worked  in  the  saw-mills,  lumber-yards, 
foundries  and  factories.  The  architecture 
and  arrangements  were  entirely  in  agree- 
ment with  the  advice  given  by  some  of  the 
eminent  architects  in  England,  when  they 
were  asked  how  churches  should  be  built  in 
order  to  secure  the  attendance  of  the  masses. 
Their  answer  was,  "Make  them  quite  large, 
very  rich  towards  God,  and  very  plain  and 
simple  towards  man."  Our  church  was  not 
carpeted  nor  cushioned;  and  I  think  that 
was  one  reason  why  the  plainer  people  felt 
at  home.  Presently  the  ladies  proposed  to 
cushion  and  carpet.     I  objected,  saying  it 


102  REMINISCENCES 

would  give  an  air  of  proprietorship  for  the 
rich,  and  I  should  lose  some  of  my  poor  peo- 
ple. But  the  ladies  prevailed,  the  improve- 
ment (  ?)  was  made,  and  in  four  months  I 
had  lost  almost  one  half  of  the  plainer  part 
of  my  flock.  I  am  sure  that  here  lies  the 
secret  of  the  large  attendance  of  the  plainer 
people  in  the  great  cathedrals  and  churches 
of  Europe.  They  are  rich  toward  God ;  but 
there  is  no  provision  for  luxurious  ease  for 
the  people.  There  are  no  carpets  or  cush- 
ions, only  very  plain  seats,  or  chairs. 

My  mission  chapel  at  Swampoodle,  in  the 
suburbs,  with  its  quite  plain  congregations, 
furnished  some  strange  and  amusing  inci- 
dents. After  afternoon  service,  at  which  all 
the  Sunday  School  (a  very  large  one),  re- 
mained, I  superintended  and  catechized.  I 
had  exchanged  one  Sunday  with  the  Rev. 
Leighton  Coleman,  afterwards  Bishop  of 
Delaware.  After  the  service,  in  talking  to 
the  children,  he  very  earnestly  urged  them 
to  be  always  prompt  and  early  in  attend- 
ance; and  as  he  was  still  urging  and  illus- 
trating, a  boy,  stepping  out  from  his  seat, 
raised  his  hand,  saying,   "  Mister,   Mister 


KEMINISCENCES  103 

preacher!  I  always  do  come  early,  but  I 
tell  you  I  have  to  run  like  the  very  devil  to 
doit!" 

On  another  Sunday,  catechizing  about  the 
Ten  Commandments  I  asked  who  gave  them 
to  the  people,  and  the  many- voiced  answer 
came,  " Moses."  I  explained  that  God  gave 
the  Commandments  and  Moses  only  passed 
them  on  to  the  people.  "Now,  once  more, 
who  gave  the  Commandments?"  And  this 
time  the  loud  answer  came  right.  But  as  it 
ended,  a  single  voice  said,  "Moses."  It  was 
a  little  boy  of  ten,  George  B.  McClellan 
Yeager.  I  explained  to  him  again,  and 
again  asked  the  question.  When  the  right 
answer  from  the  whole  school  ended,  again 
George  said,  "Moses."  A  third  time  I  ex- 
plained to  him  personally,  again  asked  the 
question,  and  again  his  answer  was  "Mo- 
ses." Presently  I  had  to  give  out  some 
prizes  for  good  behavior,  and  the  first  name 
on  the  list  was  George's.  Calling  him  up  I 
held  out  the  little  book,  then  drawing  it  back 
I  sent  him  to  his  seat,  and  calling  his  teacher, 
asked  her  to  hand  him  the  book.  ' '  George, ' ' 
I  said,  "who  gave  you  that  book?"    "You 


104  REMINISCENCES 

did,  sir."  "Did  not  Miss  Edwards  give  it 
to  you?"  "No,  she  only  handed  it  to  me." 
"That  is  what  I  said  about  the  Command- 
ments. God  gave  them  and  Moses  only 
handed  them  to  the  people.  Don't  you  un- 
derstand it  now  V9  He  said  he  did.  ' '  Now, 
once  more,  the  whole  school,  wTho  gave  the 
Commandments  ? ' ' 

The  loud-voiced  answer  was  right,  and 
then  came  George's  voice, — "I  stick  to 
Moses!" 


FROM  1876  TO  1885  AT  WASHINGTON 


CHAPTER  VII 

from  1876  to  1885  at  Washington 

My  rectorship  at  Williamsport  lasted  very 
happily  for  some  eight  years,  from  1868  to 
1876,  and  it  would  have  lasted  much  longer, 
but  for  an  unexpected  call  to  the  rectorship 
of  one  of  the  most  important  parishes  in  the 
land;  the  Church  of  the  Epiphany  at  Wash- 
ington. My  acceptance  was  only  after  a 
visit  to  Washington,  and  a  full  understand- 
ing with  the  vestry.  I  asked  what  they  did 
for  the  poor;  and  the  answer  was  that  the 
parish  had  no  poor ;  every  pew  was  let.  And 
I  said  then  I  could  not  come,  for  a  church 
without  any  poor  was  too  spiritually  poor  to 
be  useful.  They  asked  what  I  could  do  for 
the  poor;  build  chapels'?  I  said,  "No,  no 
money  spent  on  brick  and  mortar  unless  it 
becomes  an  absolute  necessity.  Take  a  les- 
son from  the  Romanists.  Use  the  same 
church  building  more  often,  and  instead  of 


108  REMINISCENCES 

brick  and  mortar,  let  me  have  two  assistants 
instead  of  one,  and  four  or  five  services  on 
Sunday  instead  of  two ;  and  at  least  three  of 
them  with  free  seats. " 

I  also  suggested  the  need  of  more  fre- 
quent administrations  of  Holy  Communion, 
because  with  seats  all  rented,  no  poor  people 
could  ever  come  to  it.  After  suggesting  some 
other  possibilities,  I  left  them  to  consider, 
and  a  half  hour  later  they  called  me  back, 
saying  I  had  suggested  some  things  of  which 
they  had  never  thought ;  and  that  if  I  could 
give  them  more  spiritual  privileges,  and 
show  them  how  to  do  better  work,  I  might 
be  sure  of  full  confidence  and  support  from 
both  vestry  and  people.  That  promise  was 
grandly  kept ;  and  I  do  not  think  there  was 
anywhere  a  better  or  better  working  vestry, 
or  a  truer  and  better  working  people  than 
those  of  that  parish.  My  eight  years  in  that 
charge  (from  October,  1876,  to  January, 
1885)  brought  me  much  satisfaction  in  the 
work,  and  many  true  and  faithful  friends ; 
and  it  was  very  rich  with  incidents  of  inter- 
est. 

I  found  about  350  communicants  when  I 


KEMINISCENCES  109 

went  there,  and  at  my  leaving  there  were 
about    1,400.    There    were    strict    parish 
boundaries   in   that   city,   marked   out   by 
streets.     Epiphany  Parish  was  very  large, 
having  at  one  end  some  of  the  best  resi- 
dences, and  at  the  other,  near  the  Potomac, 
many  of  the  worst  and  vilest.     Feeling  my 
responsibility  for  all  within  its  lines,  and 
having  succeeded  somewhat  in  reaching  and 
helping  to  Christianize  many  of  the  very 
poor  women,  my  thoughts  turned  to  the  neg- 
lected and  neglectful  men  of  the  same  dis- 
trict.   I  told  the  assistant  minister  that  I 
would  relieve  him  from  all  week  day  duty 
at  the  parish  church,  for  two  months,  if  he 
would  give  his  whole  time  to  seeking  the  men 
in  that  poorer  part;  and  that  he  should  give 
two   evenings   weekly   for   going   to   their 
houses  after  working  hours.     He  tried  faith- 
fully, but  reported  that  there  were  no  results. 
We  then  changed  work.    He  took  the  week 
day  duty  at  the  church,  and  I  for  two  months, 
gave  my  whole  time  to  that  missionary  effort. 
I  do  not  think  I  ever  did  more  faithful 
work,  but  I,  too,  found  almost  no  results. 
Then  remembering  that  it  was  he  and  I,— 


110  KEMINISCENCES 

men, — who  by  personal  work  gained  those 
women,  I  reversed  the  idea,  and  sent  women 
to  seek  and  bring  the  men ;  and  the  plan  was 
successful.  We  gathered,  in  a  rented  house, 
what  we  called  the  Men's  Meeting,  for  men 
alone,  every  Monday  night ;  but  women  were 
to  be  the  only  workers.  Beginning  with 
only  five  or  six  men,  it  grew  rapidly  until 
in  some  three  months  there  were  more  than 
80  in  regular  attendance.  The  two  or  three 
ladies  in  charge  made  the  evenings  interest- 
ing by  illustrated  papers,  magazines,  songs, 
chess,  checkers,  etc.,  and  at  half-past  nine 
every  man  had  coffee  and  sandwiches. 

But  it  was  not  an  ordinary  " Settlement' ' 
work.  It  was  distinctly  Church  settlement 
work.  We  were  not  afraid,  nor  ashamed 
of  Christ  and  His  Church.  We  began  with 
only  the  Lord's  Prayer.  The  men  them- 
selves soon  asked  for  more  prayers,  and  for 
hymns,  and  that  I  should  come  and  speak  to 
them.  Soon  the  Confession  and  Creed  fol- 
lowed ;  each  man  had  them  on  a  printed  card. 
Bishop  Pinkney  visited  it  with  me  one  even- 
ing and  said  that  he  had  never  heard  the 
Creed  so  grandly  said.    During  the  remain- 


REMINISCENCES  111 

ing  years  of  my  stay  in  that  parish  I  had 
the  happy  privilege  of  baptizing  and  pre- 
senting for  confirmation  fully  one  hundred 
of  the  men  who  had  been  so  gathered  out  of 
vile  surroundings  and  influences.  The 
growth  of  the  work  compelled  us  to  build  a 
modest  chapel  on  the  adjoining  lot,  and  to 
establish  regular  morning  services  and  Sun- 
day School.  It  was  a  fair  illustration  of  a 
principle  on  which  I  have  always  acted,  that 
the  truest  and  best  charitable  work  was  that 
which  was  distinctly  Christian.  Our  Lord 
made  His  bodily  works  of  mercy  and  His 
spiritual  teaching  go  together  and  help  each 
other. 

When  I  became  Bishop  there  were  one 
or  two  so-called  " Settlement"  works  begun 
in  Baltimore  by  our  own  Church  people,  in 
which,  to  make  them  as  they  thought  popu- 
lar by  being  "unsectarian,"  they  practically 
excluded  all  religion.  Inviting  me  to  visit 
them  they  asked  that  I  would  have  no  pray- 
ers, and  say  nothing  specially  religious.  I 
declined  to  go.  One  of  these  settlements, 
founded  by  some  members  of  St.  Stephen's 
Church,  was  called  St.  Stephen's  Club.     I 


112  REMINISCENCES 

told  them  to  take  down  that  name,  for  St. 
Stephen  gave  up  life  rather  than  disown  his 
Lord. 

The  " Men's  Meeting"  brings  me  some 
very  pleasant  remembrances.  One  evening 
the  lady  in  charge  told  me  there  was  a  man 
near  the  door  who  would  surely  make  trou- 
ble ;  he  was  half  drunk,  and  swearing  to  him- 
self. Looking  around  I  saw  two  of  my  men, 
who,  some  eighteen  months  before  were  al- 
most as  bad,  but  were  now  earnest  Chris- 
tians. I  went  to  them  and  asked  them  to 
help  me  by  taking  that  man  into  a  far  corner 
and  mounting  guard  over  him.  A  little  later 
one  of  them  came  to  me  saying,  "Dr.  Paret, 
we  are  going  to  have  that  man  here  next 
week,  and  have  him  here  sober."  The  next 
week  he  was  there,  sober ;  and  they  said,  "We 
are  going  to  watch  him,  and  try  to  help  him. ' ' 
By  God's  grace  the  man  was  saved,  through 
their  zeal,  and  became  useful  and  trusted. 

I  might  add  many  instances  confirming 
my  position  that  the  poor  are  more  helped 
by  openly  Christian  charity  than  in  any 
other  way;  that  they  are  not  repelled,  but 
rather  won  and  held  by  our  being  faithful 


EEMINISCENCES  113 

to  Christ  and  His  Church,  and  by  speaking 
boldly  in  His  Name,  as  St.  Paul  prayed  for 
grace  to  do. 

About  a  week  before  a  Confirmation  ap- 
pointed for  the  Mission,  at  which  some  thirty 
or  forty  men  were  to  be  confirmed,  the  good 
lady  in  charge  for  the  evening  told  me  that 
some  of  the  men  wanted  to  ask  me  questions. 
I  called  all  who  wished  to  ask  to  follow  me 
up  to  the  smoking-room,  and  nearly  all  who 
were  to  be  confirmed  did  so.  After  my  an- 
swering many  questions  as  to  their  personal 
duty,  they  went  downstairs,  but  one  man 
seemed  to  linger.  "Well,  Edward,"  I  said, 
"I  am  glad  you  have  just  been  baptized,  and 
you  are,  I  am  sure."  And  when  he  an- 
swered, "Yes,"  I  added,  "And  I  am  glad  you 
are  going  to  be  confirmed."  "But  I  am  not 
going  to  be  confirmed. "  "  Oh,  yes, ' '  I  said, 
"you  promised  it,  and  if  you  were  prepared 
to  be  baptized,  you  are  ready  to  be  confirmed. 
You  must  be.    Tell  me  what  is  the  trouble. ' ' 

"Mr.  Paret,  you  did  not  know  me  eighteen 
months  ago. "  I  said  I  had  only  known  him 
about  a  year.  "If  you  had,"  he  said,  "you 
would  have  known  the  wickedest  man  in 


114  REMINISCENCES 

Washington.  I  was  an  awful  swearer.  If 
my  work  went  well,  I  swore ;  if  it  went  wrong 
I  swore  worse.  When  I  went  home  and  be- 
gan to  talk  to  my  wife  or  children,  I  was 
swearing  all  the  time.  One  evening,  in  a 
speech  you  made  at  the  Mission,  you  said 
something  about  swearing.  I  thought  you 
meant  me,  and  I  began  to  get  angry.  But 
you  stopped  just  in  time.  It  made  me  think. 
I  was  ashamed  to  go  to  you,  so  I  went  to  Mr. 
M.  (the  assistant  minister),  and  asked  him 
if  a  man  who  had  been  for  many  years  an 
awful  swearer,  could  be  cured  of  it.  And 
he  said  he  could,  by  the  help  of  God's  grace. 
And  when  I  asked  how  I  could  get  that  help, 
he  wrote  on  a  paper  a  little  prayer  in  two  or 
three  lines,  told  me  to  learn  it,  to  say  it  every 
morning  and  night,  and  every  time  I  caught 
myself  swearing.  I  began,  but  it  was  an 
awful  fight.  Yet  do  you  know,  until  to- 
night, I  have  not  sworn  an  oath  for  four 
months;  but  to-night  (it  was  winter,  and 
the  six  stone  steps  at  the  front  door  were 
very  icy) ,  when  I  came  in,  my  foot  slipped  at 
the  top  step,  and  I  swore  all  the  way  to  the 
bottom." 


REMINISCENCES  115 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  "the  devil  is  making  a  hard 
fight  for  you,  but  you  must  not  let  him  win. 
All  the  more  need  for  the  help  that  will  come 
to  you  in  Confirmation. ' '  And,  with  further 
persuasion,  he  yielded, — was  confirmed,  and 
I  knew  him  for  years  afterwards  as  an  ear- 
nest, helpful  Christian  man. 

The  fact  that  my  parish  church  had  so 
very  large  a  proportion  of  men,  and  many  of 
them  men  of  high  standing,  reputation  and 
influence,  made  me  think  seriously  of  my 
special  duties  towards  men.  My  early  ex- 
perience in  the  Ministry  had  shown  me,  what 
was  confirmed  later  by  my  oversight  of  other 
clergyman  in  my  office  as  bishop,— that  most 
clergymen  find  it  much  easier  to  speak  to 
women  than  to  speak  to  men  about  their  spir- 
itual condition  and  duties.  The  approach  to 
men  does  not  seem  easy.  I  determined  not  to 
have  "the  fear  of  men,"  but  to  speak  boldly. 
One  of  the  members  of  my  congregation,  a 
man  of  lovely  character  (whose  wife  and 
daughter  were  communicants),  while  a  reg- 
ular attendant  at  the  services,  had  never  been 
baptized.  I  went  to  his  office  and  asked  for 
an  hour's  interview  on  a  very  important 


116  REMINISCENCES 

matter.  He  gave  it,  and  I  began  by  telling 
him  it  was  a  duty  that  I  owed  both  to  my- 
self and  to  him.  I  wanted  to  speak  to  him 
about  his  relation  to  God,  and  his  duty  to 
God  and  to  himself.  And  I  promised  that 
if  he  would  hear  me  fully,  I  would  feel  that 
my  conscience  was  clear. 

The  interview  was  held,  and  after  asking 
him  why  he  was  not  baptized  and  confirmed, 
I  kindly  but  very  plainly,  urged  it  as  a  duty 
to  God,  a  duty  to  himself,  a  duty  to  his  own 
household,  and  a  duty  to  the  community,  that 
his  influence  and  example  might  be  plainly 
on  God's  side.  The  conversation  was  long 
and  full,  and  he  asked  many  thoughtful  ques- 
tions. I  closed  by  again  asserting  that  having 
cleared  my  own  conscience,  I  left  the  further 
responsibility  with  him;  and  that  I  would 
not  again  approach  him  privately  on  that 
matter  unless  he  should  request  me  to  do  so. 
A  fortnight  after,  meeting  him  in  the  street, 
he  stopped  me,  and  referring  to  my  promise 
not  so  to  speak  to  him  again  until  he  asked 
it,  he  said  that  now  he  did  ask  it.  And  the 
result  was  that  within  a  month  he  was  bap- 
tized. 


REMINISCENCES  117 

Similar  good  fruit  came  in  the  cases  of 
several  public  men,  one  of  them  a  judge  of 
the  Supreme  Court,  and  all  men  older  than 
myself. 

During  my  eight  years'  residence  in 
Washington,  I  was  many  times  brought  into 
interesting  relations  with  public  men.  The 
Surgeon  General  of  the  United  States  Army, 
General  Barnes,  was  a  communicant  and 
vestryman.  When  he  was  very  ill  with  a 
sickness  that  he  knew  would  be  fatal,  and 
I  was  visiting  him  daily,  he  asked  that  I 
should  sometimes  come  to  him  for  prayers 
late  in  the  evening,  just  before  his  sleeping. 
Going  for  that  purpose  one  evening  at  nearly 
ten  o'clock,  I  found  the  President  of  the 
United  States,  President  Grant,  seated  at 
his  bedside.  The  President  recognized  me, 
and  said  that  since  I  had  probably  come  for 
a  pastoral  visit,  he  would  be  in  the  way  and 
would  withdraw.  I  told  him  that  I  did 
come  for  prayers,  but  that  he  would  not  be 
in  the  way.  "If  I  may  stay  and  join  in  the 
prayers,"  he  said,  "I  would  be  glad  to  do  so. 
Barnes  and  I  were  together  at  West  Point, 
and  in  the  Mexican  War,  and  have  always 


118  REMINISCENCES 

been  friends.  And  it  is  one  of  the  comforts 
and  reliefs  in  my  busy  life  that  I  am  able  to 
come  sometimes  and  sit  up  with  him  at 
night." 

Another  Presidential  incident  relates  to 
President  Arthur.  On  the  death  of  Presi- 
dent Garfield,  Mr.  Arthur  succeeded  to  the 
office.  He  was  a  Churchman.  One  of  my 
vestrymen  asked  me  to  go  with  him  and  call 
on  the  President,  with  whom  he  was  well 
acquainted.  He  knew  that  the  President, 
if  he  had  his  own  way,  would  attend  at  my 
parish  church  of  the  Epiphany,  yet  very 
strong  pressure  was  used  to  take  him  else- 
where ;  and  that  if  I  would  go  and  give  a  per- 
sonal earnest  request  and  invitation,  he  was 
almost  sure  that  would  secure  him.  After  a 
moment  or  two  of  thought,  I  said,  "I  cannot 
do  it.  Tell  me  of  some  poor  man,  or  plain 
man  who  needs  my  urging  to  bring  him  to 
church,  and  I  will  gladly  go  to  him.  But  I 
will  not  solicit  a  rich  man,  or  one  high  in 
position  to  patronize  the  Church  by  his 
presence." 

Some  weeks  later,  walking  on  Pennsyl- 
vania Avenue,  I  met  the  President.     He 


BEMINISCENCES  119 

stopped  and  said  lie  wanted  to  walk  a  little 
way  with  me;  and  as  we  walked  lie  said,  "I 
heard  of  your  declining  to  call  on  me,  and 
of  the  reason  you  gave  for  it.  And  I  am 
glad  you  took  that  position.  It  was  right, 
and  I  honor  you  for  it.  My  personal  pref- 
erences would  take  me  to  Epiphany  Church ; 
but  very  strong  influences,  and  the  pressure 
of  long  tradition,  seem  to  say  that  the  Pres- 
ident, if  a  Churchman,  should  go  to  St. 
John's  where  there  is  a  state  pew  set  apart 
for  him.  But  if  you  cannot  come  to  see  me 
for  that  particular  purpose,  do  come  and  see 
me  as  a  friend.'' 

I  recall  also  a  meeting  (after  I  had  be- 
come Bishop  of  Maryland)  with  President 
Cleveland  at  the  beginning  of  his  second 
term.  There  was  much  anxiety  at  the  time 
about  what  was  known  as  the  Chinese  Ex- 
clusion Act.  It  was  very  severe  indeed  in 
its  terms,  and  in  the  method  of  its  enforce- 
ment. The  Chinese  Government  was 
threatening  severe  measures  in  retaliation; 
and  at  a  meeting  of  the  House  of  Bishops 
when  it  was  felt  that  our  missionary  opera- 
tions, and  our  clergy,  and  colleges  and  hos- 


120  REMINISCENCES 

pitals,  and  other  property  in  China  were  en- 
dangered, action  was  taken  to  ask  of  the 
President  his  protection  for  onr  interests. 
A  commission  of  five  bishops  was  appointed 
to  secure  an  interview ;  and  since  Washing- 
ton was  in  my  Diocese,  I  was  made  the  chair- 
man. The  interview  was  appointed,  and 
the  night  before  it,  the  five  bishops  met  to 
study  the  matter.  "We  took  a  printed  copy 
of  the  Act,  and  marked  all  the  objectionable 
features,  with  our  suggestions  for  a  change ; 
and  they  requested  me  to  be  the  spokesman. 

The  next  day  passing  through  a  crowd  of 
office-seekers,  all  claiming  promised  inter- 
views, we  were  taken  into  the  President's 
library  where  he,  and  the  Secretary  of  State, 
soon  appeared.  I  introduced  the  other 
bishops,  and  began  to  speak  about  our  pur- 
pose. But  the  President  stopped  me  say- 
ing, "Do  not  begin  business  so  quickly;  let 
us  talk  about  something  else.  Yours  are 
the  first  faces  I  have  seen  for  days  that  were 
not  those  of  hungry  office-seekers." 

But  it  was  not  easy  to  talk  at  the  word 
of  command,  and  there  was  a  short  silence, 
till  the  President  asked,  "Do  any  of  you 


KEMINISCENCES  121 

fish?"  I  answered  that  I  was  a  fisherman, 
and  two  or  three  fishing  stories  were  ex- 
changed between  him  and  myself. 

This  opened  the  way  pleasantly  for  our 
business.  I  said  that  though  bishops,  we 
had  come  to  him  as  citizens,  feeling  that  all 
citizens  had  a  right  to  seek  the  President's 
protection  for  their  interests  when  endan- 
gered in  foreign  lands,  and  that  interests 
very  dear  to  us  were  so  endangered  by  rea- 
son of  the  Chinese  Exclusion  Bill.  Grant- 
ing our  right  to  seek  his  help,  he  said  that  he 
was  ashamed  to  say  it,  but  that  he  knew  very 
little  about  that  Bill,  his  time  having  been 
so  occupied  of  late  by  election  campaign 
matters.  "But  tell  me  about  it,"  he  said. 
I  read  and  explained  the  points  from  our 
marked  paper,  and  then  from  the  instruc- 
tions of  the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury ;  "Not 
yours,  Mr.  President,  but  your  predeces- 
sor's." After  hearing  them,  and  asking 
many  questions,  he  said,  "They  do  seem 
needlessly  severe,  but  I  do  not  see  how  I  can 
help  you.  I  did  not  make  that  law ;  I  can- 
not change  it.  I  am  only  an  executive  offi- 
cer whose  sworn  duty  it  is  to  do  all  I  can  to 


122  REMINISCENCES 

see  that  the  laws  of  the  country  are  en- 
forced. Yet  you  may  have  a  remedy.  The 
constitutionality  of  this  law  has  been  ques- 
tioned, and  the  Supreme  Court  will  in  a  few 
weeks  decide  that  point.  If  they  say  it  is 
not  constitutional  you  have  what  you  ask. 
If  not,  I  must  see  that  the  law  is  enforced.' ' 

"But,  Mr.  President,"  I  said,  " there  are 
two  ways  of  enforcing  such  a  law."  "No, 
no!"  he  said.  "Only  one  straightforward 
honest  action. "  "I  beg  your  pardon, ' '  I  an- 
swered, ' '  such  a  law  could  be  enforced  either 
with  the  utmost  possible  severity,  or  with  the 
utmost  possible  gentleness. ' ' 

He  said  that  there  might  be  such  a  dis- 
tinction, and  then  put  out  his  hand  to  dis- 
miss us.  But  instead  of  taking  it,  I  said, 
"Mr.  President,  we  were  hoping  that  we 
might  have  some  assurance  from  you." 

"What  assurance  could  I  give?" 

"We  hoped  for  your  promise  that  if  you 
had  to  enforce  the  law,  it  should  be  with  the 
utmost  possible  gentleness." 

He  seemed  to  grow  angry,  and  said,  "Do 
you  know  that  you  are  making  a  very  strange 
demand?" 


KEMINISCENCES  123 

"Not  a  demand,"  I  answered,  "but  only 
the  expression  of  a  hope."  Presently  the 
smile  came  back,  and  again  he  put  out  his 
hand  saying,  "Well,  I  promise.  If  I  have 
to  enforce  that  law,  it  shall  be  with  the  ut- 
most possible  gentleness." 

Two  weeks  later  the  Supreme  Court  de- 
clared that  the  law  was  constitutional.  Soon 
after  that  an  official  notice  was  published 
cancelling  the  former  Secretary's  very  se- 
vere instructions,  and  issuing  new  ones  in 
which  every  change  we  asked  had  been  made. 
And  a  little  later  an  informal  notice  ap- 
peared that  the  President  was  not  able  to 
enforce  the  law  very  strictly,  since  it  would 
require  an  expenditure  of  several  hundred 
thousand  dollars  for  which  Congress  had 
made  no  appropriation.6 

6  An  interesting  incident  concerning  one  of  the  Vice-presi- 
dents was  often  told  by  Bishop  Paret.  At  the  Centennial  of 
the  Laying  of  the  Corner  Stone  of  the  Capitol  in  Washington 
in  September,  1893,  Bishop  Paret  was  to  have  the  opening 
prayer  at  the  exercises  at  the  Capitol,  and  Vice-president 
Stevenson  one  of  the  principal  addresses.  The  exercises  were 
held  on  a  grand-stand  in  front  of  the  Capitol,  and  a  strong 
wind  was  blowing  at  the  time.  In  a  short  conversation  with 
the  Vice-president,  Bishop  Paret  said  that  he  feared  the  Vice- 
president's  speech  would  not  be  heard  by  many  of  the  people 
as  the  wind  was  in  the  wrong  direction.     "That  is  where  you 


124  REMINISCENCES 

Again,  during  the  Administration  of  Pres- 
ident McKinley,  the  House  of  Bishops  ap- 
pointed a  commission  to  see  the  President 
and  try  to  secure  better  arrangements  for 
insuring  efficiency  and  helpfulness  in  the 
service  of  the  chaplains  in  the  Army  and 
Navy,  and  especially  those  who  were  of  our 
own  Church.  And  once  more  I  was  made 
the  chairman.  Telling  him  of  our  purpose, 
I  said  we  felt  that  most  of  the  chaplains  were 
unhelpful  and  often  unworthy  men ;  that  the 
office  was  almost  always  given  through  po- 
litical influence  of  senators,  or  others,  with- 
out regard  to  real  fitness  for  the  work ;  and 
for  the  good  of  the  soldiers  and  sailors,  and 
for  the  credit  and  influence  of  the  Church, 
we  wished  to  suggest  a  way  for  improve- 
ment. We  asked  that  hereafter  no  clergy- 
man of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church 
should  have  such  appointment  without  an 
assurance  from  his  own  bishop  that  he  would 
be  a  worthy  and  useful  man. 

i  i  Impossible !      Impossible ! ' '     exclaimed 

have  the  advantage  of  me,"  returned  the  Vice-president.  "  In 
what  way?"  asked  the  Bishop.  "Because  He  to  Whom  you 
speak  always  hears." 


REMINISCENCES  125 

the  President.  "Why  our  chaplains  are  from 
all  denominations,  Presbyterians,  Baptists, 
Congregationalists,  and  others,  who  have  no 
bishops;  and  we  must  treat  all  alike/' 

We  continued  our  argument,  and  there 
was  a  long  debate.  At  last  I  asked  him  who 
were  the  best  chaplains  in  the  service.  He 
said  they  were  Roman  Catholics,  and  I  knew 
that  would  be  his  answer. 

"But,  Mr.  President,  do  you  ever  appoint 
a  Roman  Catholic  chaplain  except  upon  the 
request  and  assurance  of  his  bishop?" 

He  dodged  the  question,  and  began  to  talk 
about  something  else.  A  second  time  I 
asked  it,  and  a  second  time  he  evaded  it.  I 
asked  it  a  third  time,  and  then  he  answered, 
"You  know  they  have  their  own  peculiar 
methods  of  watchfulness  and  influence  with 
us."  "Yes,"  I  replied,  "but  you  said  you 
must  treat  all  alike.  Give  us  the  same  priv- 
ileges you  give  to  them,  and  wait  before  ap- 
pointing any  of  our  clergy  until  you  hear 
from  his  bishop."  After  a  little  more  de- 
murring he  yielded,  and  gave  the  orders; 
and  during  his  Administration  they  were 
obeyed.     I,  as  Bishop  of  Maryland,  received 


126  REMINISCENCES 

four  requests  for  such  information.  Of 
three  I  answered  unfavorably.  One  had  my 
approval,  and  he  only  was  appointed.  But 
I  fear  the  rule  was  afterwards  forgotten. 

In  connection  with  Epiphany  Church 
there  are  some  very  pleasant  memories  about 
money  matters.  I  have  never  been  a  money- 
raiser,  nor  in  the  habit  of  making  any  per- 
sonal appeals  for  gifts  for  the  Church.  I 
only,  when  need  came,  stated  the  case  in  a 
plain  business-like  way,  in  church,  or  in 
printed  appeals,  and  left  it  to  the  con- 
sciences of  others  to  determine  their  action. 
And  the  results  were  good.  For  instance, 
the  Epiphany  Church  Home  was  in  debt.  I 
mentioned  the  fact  at  one  of  the  Church 
services,  and  stated  my  hope  that  some  way 
might  be  found  for  meeting  it.  The  next 
week  a  generous  Churchwoman  called  on  me 
and  asked  what  the  amount  of  the  debt  was. 
I  told  her,  I  think,  about  $2,500.  She 
wanted  to  know  exactly,  and  after  study  I 
named  the  exact  sum.  She  turned  to  the 
desk,  drew  her  check  for  that  amount,  and 
asked  me  to  see  that  the  debt  was  cancelled 
at  once. 


REMINISCENCES  127 

I  needed  money  to  sustain  the  work  of  the 
Men's  Meeting  at  the  Epiphany  Mission.  I 
mentioned  at  a  Sunday  morning  service  our 
responsibility  for  that  needy  part  of  the 
parish,  and  told  how  we  were  trying  to  meet 
it.  I  added  that  the  actual  labor  and  serv- 
ice was  to  be  done  by  women  alone,  but  it 
would  cost  $1,000  a  year  to  maintain  it,  and 
I  thought  the  men  should  provide  that.  I 
said  I  would  not  have  a  collection  in  church, 
nor  send  out  a  subscription  list,  but  that  I 
left  the  responsibility  with  them.  If  within 
the  next  two  weeks  that  amount  should  be 
sent  to  me,  I  would  know  that  the  parish- 
ioners approved  and  would  sustain  the  work. 
If  not,  it  would  be  abandoned.  "Within  ten 
days  I  received  fully  $1,200. 

I  might  give  many  more  interesting  in- 
cidents. I  will  only  add  that  while  Wash- 
ington as  a  city  of  political  life,  and  of  much 
wealth  has  been  thought  by  some  to  be  es- 
pecially worldly,  I  have  never  known  a  place 
where  the  Lord's  Day  was  better  observed, 
and  where  attendance  at  church  was  so  gen- 
eral and  constant,  and  especially  on  the  part 
of  the  men.     I  have  heard,  also,  the  insinu- 


128  REMINISCENCES 

ation,  that  the  ladies  in  Washington  were 
given  up  to  the  ways  of  fashionable  society ; 
the  round  of  calls  and  receptions.  My  ex- 
perience did  not  prove  it  so.  True,  some 
whose  husbands  held  official  positions  were 
bound  for  their  sakes  to  the  fulfilment  of 
many  social  duties.  But  I  have  never 
known  women  more  earnest  as  Christians, 
or  more  ready  and  helpful  to  aid  me  in  the 
work  among  the  poor,  the  sick,  the  ignorant 
and  neglected,  than  the  helpers  I  found 
among  the  wives  and  daughters  of  senators, 
cabinet  officers,  and  judges. 

It  was  during  the  time  of  my  rectorship 
in  Washington  that  I  was  able  to  take  my 
first  voyage  to  Europe.  Taking  with  me  my 
youngest  son,  I  sailed  in  the  year  1881. 
There  is  no  need  to  tell  the  general  incidents 
of  the  three  months '  travel.  They  were  only 
the  repetition  of  the  usual  experiences  of 
tourists.  But  there  was  one  part  that  does 
call  for  record.  I  had,  some  years  before, 
found  among  papers  left  by  my  father,  sev- 
eral letters  from  his  grandmother,  my  great 
grandmother,  written  from  the  old  family 
home  in  France  to  her  son  in  New  York,  my 


REMINISCENCES  129 

grandfather.  They  were  dated  about  the 
year  1765,  and  were  very  quaint  and  inter- 
esting with  their  details  of  simple  home  life, 
and  neighborhood  affairs.  By  the  help  of 
these  letters  I  had  been  able  to  locate  the  old 
family  home.  It  was  in  the  Commune  of 
Latour,  not  a  town  or  village,  but  made  up  of 
farms;  near  the  village  of  Tricolet  in  the 
Department  of  Correze,  in  that  part  of 
Southern  France  known  as  Auvergne. 

One  of  the  plans  of  my  journey  was  to 
visit  that  place.  It  was  far  off  the  beaten 
track  of  railroads,  the  nearest  town  of  any 
size,  Brive,  being  some  sixteen  miles  dis- 
tant. We  drove  there  from  Brive  early  on 
Sunday  morning;  choosing  that  day  that  I 
might  be  sure  of  meeting  the  priest  of  the 
Roman  Church. 

The  parish  church  of  St.  Eutrope,  was  at 
Tricolet,  about  seven  miles  from  Latour.  1 
was  sorry  that  we  reached  it  too  late  for  the 
service.  It  was  a  rude  building  of  early 
irregular  Norman  architecture,  built  in  the 
thirteenth  century.  I  was  able,  a  little 
later,  to  find  the  priest  at  his  house,  and  had 
an  hour  of  very  pleasant  and  helpful  con- 


130  REMINISCENCES 

versation.  He  told  me  that  the  family  place 
had  been  under  the  Paret  ownership  for 
some  200  years;  that  the  present  occupant 
was  Barthelemy  Paret,  a  man  of  over 
eighty  years,  and  that,  as  he  had  no  sons,  the 
property  would  at  his  death,  lose  the  family 
name.  At  the  close  of  our  conversation  he 
said,  laughing,  that  I  must  take  an  inter- 
preter with  me.  I  thought,  at  first,  that  he 
meant  a  little  criticism  of  my  imperfect 
French.  But  he  explained  .by  saying  that 
the  old  gentleman  did  not  speak  French,  nor 
understand  it ;  that  he  was  one  of  a  few  of 
nearly  the  same  age  who  prided  themselves 
on  keeping  the  old  patois,  the  Provencal 
language  called  Langue  d'  Oc.  Taking  a 
young  man  as  interpreter,  we  found  the  old 
gentleman  living  alone  in  his  comfortable 
stone  house  with  its  stone  floors.  His  two 
married  daughters,  living  very  near  and  on 
the  same  property,  kept  his  house  in  order 
and  provided  for  him.  Learning  from  our 
interpreter  who  I  was,  he  sent  for  those 
daughters  and  their  families,  for  a  relative 
from  America  was  something  remarkable  in 
their  lives.    It  being  Sunday  they  were  all 


REMINISCENCES  131 

free,  and  the  daughters,  their  husbands  and 
their  children  soon  appeared.  For  nearly 
two  hours  the  conversation  went  on  through 
three  languages ;  I  first  telling,  in  English  to 
my  son,  what  I  was  going  to  say;  then  re- 
peating it  in  French,  and  our  interpreter 
repeated  it  in  their  rough  dialect.  The  an- 
swers filtered  back  in  the  same  way.  Bar- 
thelemy  Paret  proved  to  be  second  or  third 
cousin  to  my  father.  He  remembered  the 
family  stories  about  my  grandfather  and  his 
going  to  America,  and  told  me  many  things 
of  interest  about  his  earlier  days,  and  their 
life  and  ways. 

When  I  rose  to  depart  he  said  that  I  could 
not  go  until  we  had  eaten  bread  and  drunk 
wine  together.  The  bread,  he  said,  was 
from  wheat  grown  on  their  own  farm,  and 
the  wine  from  their  own  vines;  and  he 
thought  they  had  one  of  the  best  wine  farms 
in  France.  This  being  ended,  he  came  to  me 
to  say  farewell  with  the  kiss  in  the  French 
manner,  he  kissing  me  on  each  cheek,  and 
receiving  my  two  kisses  in  return.  His  two 
sons-in-law  followed  doing  the  same,  and 
passing  from  me  to  my  son.    Then  the  two 


132  REMINISCENCES 

daughters ;  then  the  children.  I  think  there 
were  eighteen  girls  and  four  boys.  All  was 
in  absolute  silence,  as  solemn  as  a  funeral 
procession.  After  we  were  out  of  the  house, 
we  counted  up  the  kisses;  the  old  man,  the 
sons-in-law,  and  daughters,  the  twenty-two 
children,  twenty-seven  in  all.  Four  times 
twenty-seven  would  be  one  hundred  and 
eight  kisses  to  each  of  us ;  two  hundred  and 
sixteen  in  all. 


AS  BISHOP  OP  MARYLAND 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AS  BISHOP  OF  MARYLAND 

In  my  work  in  Epiphany  Parish,  I  felt 
that  I  was  in  a  position  of  usefulness  and 
influence,  and  I  had  no  desire  to  leave  it. 
But  in  the  fall  of  1884  there  came  a  demand 
to  which  I  was  compelled  to  yield.  In 
October  of  that  year,  at  a  special  Convention 
held  at  St.  Peter's  Church  in  Baltimore, 
after  protracted  balloting  lasting  for  some 
three  days,  I  was  elected  to  be  the  sixth 
Bishop  of  Maryland.  It  was  an  utter  sur- 
prise. I  had  not  sought  it,  and  I  can  most 
truly  say  I  did  not  desire  it.  But  the  dio- 
cese had  been  without  a  bishop  for  two  or 
more  years,  and  Convention  after  Conven- 
tion had  been  unable  to  complete  an  election. 
And  these  facts  seemed  to  make  the  call  im- 
perative. 

There  were  some  things  of  interest  in  that 
election.    Up  to  that  time  the  Church  in 


136  REMINISCENCES 

Maryland  had  been  sadly  disturbed  by  the 
strifes  then  prevailing  between  what  were 
known  as  the  high  Churchmen  and  the  low 
Churchmen.  In  preparation  for  that  Con- 
vention, one  of  the  two  parties,  the  one  which 
was  much  the  stronger,  held  a  caucus,  in 
which  they  agreed  upon  certain  points; 
namely,  that  the  one  elected  must  be  a  south- 
ern man,  born  south  of  Mason  and  Dixon's 
line;  that  he  must  be  not  over  forty-five 
years  of  age ;  that  he  must  be  a  low  Church- 
man ;  and  that  he  must  not  be  one  now  in  the 
diocese,  for,  if  so,  and  if  he  were  a  man  of 
any  force,  he  would  not  be  able  to  heal  the 
divisions  because  he  must  have  taken  part  in 
some  of  the  vexed  questions  and  debates. 
But  when  the  election  was  completed  all 
these  caucus  agreements  were  broken.  The 
one  they  chose  was  a  northern  man,  born 
and  brought  up  in  New  York ;  was  fifty-nine 
years  old,  instead  of  only  forty-five ;  was  not 
a  low  Churchman,  but  an  old-fashioned  con- 
servative high  Churchman;  was  already  in 
the  diocese,  and  for  eight  years  had  taken 
active  part  in  all  the  debates. 

Another  incident  mav  be  of  interest.    The 


REMINISCENCES  137 

ladies  of  Epiphany  Parish,  of  which  I  was 
rector,  had  provided  for  me,  from  Europe, 
a  very  full  outfit  of  Episcopal  robes  and 
necessities,  and  had  presented  them  with 
the  request  that  I  would  wear  them  at  my 
Consecration,  to  which  I  agreed.  But  soon 
after  came  a  letter  from  the  family  of  Bishop 
Whittingham,  a  former  Bishop  of  Mary- 
land, saying  that  they  still  had  one  set  of 
his  robes,  and  they  wanted  to  present  them 
to  me  with  the  understanding  that  I  would 
wear  them  at  my  Consecration.  And  they 
enforced  their  request  by  saying  that  they 
knew  I  was  that  Bishop's  choice  for  the  suc- 
cession, he  having  once  said  that  it  was  his 
wish  and  prayer  that  I  might  some  day  be 
Bishop  of  Maryland.  I  did  not  wear  the 
grand  newT  English  robes  at  my  Consecra- 
tion,7 but,  thinking  of  Elijah  and  Elisha  and 
their  mantle,  I  wore  the  very  old-fashioned 
and  much  worn  robes  of  Bishop  Whitting- 
ham. 

The  long  vacancy  in  the  Bishop's  Office 
had  left  room  for  many  irregularities ;  and 
my  first  years  as  Bishop  gave  me  much  to 

7  January,  1885. 


138  REMINISCENCES 

do  in  "setting  in  order  the  things  that  were 
wanting."  But,  northerner  though  I  was 
by  birth,  the  good  southern  people  received 
me  lovingly,  and  readily  conformed  to  my 
wishes. 

I  remember  well  my  first  round  of  visi- 
tations in  the  southern  counties,  Anne 
Arundel,  Calvert,  Prince  George's,  St. 
Mary 's  and  Charles.  It  was  in  July,  1885. 
Through  almost  all  those  parts  there  were 
no  railroads,  and  my  two  weeks '  continuous 
travel  was  by  buggy,  zizgagging  from  church 
to  church.  It  was  still  so  near  the  Civil 
War  times  that  the  war  feelings  had  not  all 
died.  To  make  my  first  visit  to  one  of  the 
churches  in  Charles  County,  I  had  taken  an 
early  morning  drive  of  some  twenty  miles, 
and  getting  out  on  the  green  before  the 
church,  I  stood  beside  a  pleasant  looking 
country  gentleman,  who,  of  course,  did  not 
recognize  me.  My  immediate  predecessor, 
Bishop  Pinkney,  was  a  man  of  very  vener- 
able ap2)earance  with  long  gray  hair  and 
gray  beard ;  and,  I,  unfortunately,  had  then 
not  a  gray  hair  on  my  head. 

The  good  man  said  to  me,   "I  thought 


REMINISCENCES  139 

our    Yankee    Bishop    was    coming    over." 

I  knew  how  he  felt,  as  a  warm  southerner, 
and  I  said,  "He  did  come."  He  said,  "I  do 
not  see  him.  Where  is  he?"  When  I  re- 
plied that  I  was  the  Bishop,  putting  his 
hands  on  my  shoulders,  he  gave  me  a  very 
vigorous  shove,  and  said,  "See  here,  young 
man,  stop  your  fooling!" 

I  had  asked  the  vestry  to  meet  me  after  the 
service,  and  they  did  so ;  only  one  was  lack- 
ing, and  that  was  the  good  man  on  the  green. 
But  we  soon  became  warm  friends. 

At  another  parish  in  that  neighborhood, 
where  there  had  been  a  long  vacancy,  the 
warden,  speaking  for  the  vestry,  asked  me 
to  appoint  and  send  a  rector  to  them. 
"But,"  said  he,  "there  is  one  thing  you 
ought  to  know.  Every  man  in  this  parish  is 
a  Democrat,  and  in  war  time  every  man  was 
a  Confederate.  You  must  not  send  us  any 
Republican,  or  any  northern  man." 

"Why  not?"  I  asked.  "I  do  not  choose 
ministers  in  that  way. ' ' 

"It  would  split  the  parish  in  pieces. 
There  would  not  be  a  man  in  church  in  a 
month;  not  a  woman  after  two  weeks." 


140  KEMINISCENCES 

To  all  his  constant  urging  I  refused,  say- 
ing that  they  must  choose  their  own  minister, 
that  I  would  not.  Some  fifteen  months 
after,  on  my  next  visitation,  the  same  warden 
said,  "  Bishop,  I  wish  you  would  say  a  word 
or  two  to  our  minister." 

"What  shall  I  tell  him?" 

"Tell  him  the  War  is  over.  He  has  been 
here  a  year,  and  has  not  preached  a  single 
sermon  without  a  war  story  in  it.  Say  some- 
thing to  him." 

"No,"  I  said,  "you  called  him  here  on 
Democratic  principles.  You  must  do  your 
own  talking." 

At  my  next  visitation,  the  warden  said, 
"Well,  Bishop,  our  minister  has  gone,  and 
we  want  a  new  one,  and  we  want  the  Bishop 
to  choose  him,  but  not  on  Democratic  princi- 
ples." 

I  grew  to  love  the  people  of  those  Southern 
Maryland  Counties  very  greatly,  and  I 
think  they  grew  to  love  me ;  and  my  almost 
yearly  visitations  for  twenty-five  years,  made 
me  much  at  home  in  their  houses  and  in  their 
lives.  It  was  not  the  life  of  cities  and  towns. 
There  were  no  cities  or  large  towns  in  that 


REMINISCENCES  141 

region.  It  was  the  quiet  rural  life,  the  con- 
tinuation of  what  had  been,  before  the  War, 
the  old  plantation  life.  It  was  pleasant  to 
find  among  them  man  after  man,  who  had, 
and  whose  conversation  and  manners  showed 
it,  full  college  training :  men  from  Yale  and 
Harvard  and  Princeton,  and  the  University 
of  Virginia.  And  among  the  women,  the 
hours  at  the  table  showed  that  they  had  re- 
ceived the  advantages  of  the  best  schools  in 
the  country. 

But  from  the  long  interregnum  in  the 
Episcopate,  there  had  grown  an  irregularity 
and  seeming  carelessness  about  the  churches 
and  the  services.  The  parson,  living  often 
on  the ' '  Glebe ' '  of  50  or  100,  or  150  acres,  and 
getting  much  of  his  support  from  that,  was 
obliged  to  be  often  both  farmer  and  parson 
in  one,  and  the  farmer's  duties  interfered 
with  those  of  the  parson.  Many  of  them 
held  only  one  service  on  Sunday,  and,  except 
on  great  days,  no  week  day  services  at  all. 
It  was  thought  too  much  for  the  people  to 
take  too  often  the  long  drives  to  church  that 
were  necessary,  and  if  a  rainy  Sunday  came 
often  neither  parson,  nor  people  thought  it 


142  REMINISCENCES 

necessary  to  open  the  church  at  all.  I  re- 
member one  occasion  when  having  an  ap- 
pointment at  one  of  the  churches  in  the  fields, 
the  day  appointed  proved  quite  stormy.  I 
had  sjDent  the  night  before  with  the  rector 
of  an  adjoining  parish,  and  when  I  said  it 
was  time  to  start  he  expressed  his  surprise  at 
my  thinking  of  it,  saying  I  would  find  no  one 
at  all  at  the  church.  I  insisted,  but  his 
words  proved  true.  We  arrived  only  some 
ten  minutes  before  the  hour  appointed. 
There  was  no  sign  of  life,  and  the  church 
doors  were  locked.  We  waited  until  a  few 
moments  after  the  hour,  then  drove  around 
the  church,  leaving  our  tracks  in  the  light 
snow  which  had  fallen,  and  after  tacking  my 
card  on  the  door,  we  went  away. 

There  were  several  like  instances.  I  was 
to  visit  and  confirm  at  one  of  the  oystermen's 
chapels  on  the  Chesapeake.  The  night  be- 
fore I  had  spent  with  one  of  the  oystermen 
near  a  like  chapel  some  twelve  miles  distant. 
The  morning  brought  a  heavy  drenching 
rain  and  violent  wind.  My  good  host  pro- 
tested that  I  ought  not  to  go  (by  sail-boat) 
in  such  weather,  but  I  went.     We  arrived  at 


REMINISCENCES  143 

the  place  at  the  time  when  it  had  been  agreed 
that  someone  was  to  meet  me  on  a  point  of 
land  about  a  mile  from  the  chapel.  There 
was  no  one  there,  and  it  was  raining  hard. 
Sending  back  those  who  had  brought  me,  I 
made  my  way  to  the  chapel,  picking  up  a  boy 
on  the  way.  The  doors  were  locked.  I  sent 
the  lad  for  the  keys,  and  he  and  I  made  the 
fire  and  rang  the  bell.  We  began  the  service 
half  an  hour  late,  and  with  some  fifteen  in 
the  congregation  who  apologized,  saying  that 
nobody  dreamed  I  would  venture  out  in  such 
a  storm. 

The  isolated  position  of  those  churches  in 
the  fields  made  another  difficulty.  Asking 
one  rector,  whose  parish  covered  nearly  200 
square  miles,  what  Sunday  School  he  had,  he 
answered  that  he  had  none.  The  farming 
people  living  at  a  distance  had  their  home 
and  farm  duties,  and  could  not  come  an  hour 
and  a  half  before  the  service  to  bring  their 
children;  neither  could  they  wait  so  long 
after  the  morning  service.  So  he  had  given 
up  thought  of  Sunday  School.  I  protested 
that  if  I  were  in  his  place  I  would  find  a  way. 
If  I  could  not  have  one  Sunday  School  at  the 


144  REMINISCENCES 

church  as  the  central  point,  I  would  have 
four  or  five  neighborhood  schools,  and  so 
reach  all.  I  would  find  some  earnest  com- 
municant, man  or  woman,  who  besides  his, 
or  her,  own  children,  would  gather  at  the 
house  a  few  children  on  Sunday  afternoons, 
teaching  them  after  my  advice  and  direction, 
with  an  occasional  visit  from  myself.  After 
full  study  together  he  followed  my  advice, 
and  two  years  later  he  was  able  to  tell  me 
that  he  had  five  Sunday  Schools  with  seventy 
scholars.  I  urged  these  neighborhood  Sun- 
day Schools  also  in  some  others  of  the  large 
rural  parishes,  and  always  with  excellent  re- 
sults. 

I  might  give  many  amusing  incidents  of 
my  life  and  work  as  Bishop,  but  a  few  must 
suffice.  Some  of  them  I  have  told  so  often 
that  they  will  seem  old  stories ;  and  in  record- 
ing some  of  them  now  I  will  not  attempt  to 
give  them  in  order  of  time  and  occurrence. 
I  tell  them  only  as  they  come  to  my  remem- 
brance. 

Among  memories  of  pleasant  hospitalities, 
there  is  one  experience  which  has  often  ap- 
peared in  print,  but  distorted  and  incorrect. 


KEMINISCENCES  145 

I  think  of  a  visit  in  one  of  the  good  old  fam- 
ily residences  in  Southern  Maryland,  where 
the  sad  results  of  the  war  had  made  it  im- 
possible to  keep  up  all  its  former  state.  As 
I  came  down  early  in  the  morning,  my  kind 
hostess  asked  what  I  would  like  for  break- 
fast ;  and  I  said  that  my  memories  of  my  sup- 
per were  so  pleasant,  that  I  was  sure  any- 
thing she  offered  would  be  delightful.  But 
she  insisted,  and  I  suggested  boiled  eggs, 
moderately  soft-boiled  about  four  minutes. 
But  she  had  told  me  the  day  before  that  they 
had  neither  clock  nor  watch  in  the  house,  but 
could  tell  the  time  of  day  very  closely  by 
looking  at  the  sun,  or  sky.  So  I  proposed  to 
go  to  the  kitchen  with  her  and  mark  the  four 
minutes.  But  she  said,  "I  do  not  boil  them 
that  way.  Perhaps  you  have  noticed  that  I 
sing  a  great  deal.  I  always  sing  when  I  am 
at  work,  whatever  the  work  may  be.  And  I 
have  noticed  that  when  I  am  boiling  eggs,  if  I 
take  my  favorite  hymn,  'Just  as  I  am,'  and 
sing  it  all  but  one  verse,  the  eggs  will  be  very 
soft.  If  I  sing  it  all  and  one  verse  over,  they 
will  be  quite  hard.  I  think  I  will  give  you 
about  the  whole  hymn." 


146  REMINISCENCES 

I  asked  permission  to  go  with  her  and  see. 
When  the  water  came  to  boiling,  she  put  in 
the  eggs,  folded  her  hands,  and  looking  up 
sang  the  hymn  somewhat  slowly;  and  the 
eggs  were  done  to  perfection.  But  alas!  a 
few  hours  later,  at  the  service  in  the  church, 
the  first  hymn  sung  was  that  same  "  Just  as 
I  am,"  and  my  thoughts  were  somewhat 
mixed. 

On  a  visitation  in  St.  Mary's  County,  after 
the  morning  service,  a  lunch  was  enjoyed  un- 
der the  grand  oak  trees  in  the  churchyard. 
As  it  drew  near  the  close,  a  bright  looking 
middle-aged  colored  man  asked  to  speak  to 
me.  He  said,  * '  Bishop,  I  heard  your  sermon 
this  morning ;  a  mighty  good  sermon ;  it  did 
me  a  heap  of  good."  And  in  answer  to  my 
question  he  told  me  the  text,  and  gave  a  fair 
idea  of  the  substance  of  what  I  said.  He 
added,  "I  heard  your  sermon  yesterday." 
"But  I  was  twenty  miles  away."  "I  was 
there,"  he  said,  "and  that  was  a  grand  good 
sermon."  And  again  he  gave  me  the  text 
correctly.  "Bishop,  I  heard  your  sermon 
the  day  before."  "But  I  was  thirty  miles 
away ! "    "I  was  there, ' '  he  said, ' ' I  Ve  been 


EEMINISCENOES  147 

following  you  up";  and  again  lie  gave  the 
text  correctly.  "Now,  Bishop,"  he  said, 
"them  are  what  I  call  stayin'  sermons. 
That  kind  of  a  sermon  stays  with  a  man ;  it 
sticks  to  him,  he  can't  shake  it  off;  he  can't 
get  rid  of  it."  After  a  pause  he  continued, 
"Bishop,  I'm  a  preacher,  too." 
i '  Are  you  ?  What  kind  of  a  preacher  ? ' ' 
"I'm  a  Methodist  preacher,  but  I  can't 
preach  that  kind  of  sermon.  I  preach  what 
they  call  rousin '  sermons.  I  do  wish  I  could 
preach  some  stayin '  sermons.  Now,  see  here, 
Bishop,  you've  preached  them  three  sermons. 
You  won't  want  them  no  more.  If  you'll 
only  give  them  to  me  I'll  give  you  a  quarter 
apiece  for  them." 

It  may  be  well  here  to  say  something  of 
the  Church  work  among  the  Negroes.  I 
was,  from  the  beginning  of  my  Episcopate, 
greatly  interested  in  it.  I  felt  the  great  need 
and  my  responsibility;  and  I  soon  found, 
also,  the  very  great  difficulties.  Yet,  with 
many  disappointments,  the  work  grew 
slowly,  and  I  found  among  them  some  very 
earnest  and  devout  souls. 


148  REMINISCENCES 

My  relations  with  members  of  the  Roman 
Church,  including  Cardinal  Gibbons,  have 
been  quite  pleasant.  On  one  of  my  visita- 
tions, talking  with  one  of  their  priests,  he  re- 
minded me  that  in  old  times  in  Maryland  it 
was  the  custom  to  speak  of  the  two  Churches 
as  the  "  Roman  Catholic,  and  the  Protestant 
Catholic."  The  Cardinal  and  I  often  met 
and  took  part  together  on  many  public,  or 
charitable  occasions,  and  sometimes  in  social 
gatherings,  and  our  differing  views  never 
marred  the  pleasantness  of  our  intercourse. 

I  will  allude  briefly  to  another  incident, 
which  has  become  somewhat  historical.8 
The  Legislature  of  Maryland  had  deter- 
mined to  erect  a  monument  over  the  grave  of 
Leonard  Calvert.  That  grave  was  in  the 
consecrated  churchyard  of  our  parish  at  St. 
Mary's  City,  and  my  consent  was  necessary. 
I  cheerfully  gave  it.  The  Cardinal  was  to 
have  had  the  opening  prayers,  and  I  the  final 
prayers  and  benediction.  On  his  way  to  the 
place  the  Cardinal  was  taken  ill,  and  he  sent 
a  note  to  me  apologizing  for,  and  explaining 
his  absence,  and  saying  that  he  had  ap- 

s  November,  1890. 


EEMINISCENCES  149 

pointed  a  certain  priest  to  act  for  him,  and 
had  given  him  the  prayers  he  had  prepared. 
There  was  a  very  large  gathering  of  peo- 
ple. But  the  first  speaker,  a  member  of  the 
Roman  Church,  went  out  of  his  way  to  make 
a  bitter  attack  on  the  Church  of  England; 
and  claiming  for  the  Eoman  Church  all  the 
credit  for  religious  liberty  and  freedom  of 
conscience  in  the  United  States,  because  the 
charter  which  secured  religious  liberty  was 
given  to  Calvert,  a  Eoman  Catholic  noble- 
man of  the  grandest  pattern  of  Christian 
character.  The  next  speech  was  by  an 
eminent  lawyer,  a  member  of  our  own 
Church;  but  stirred  up  by  the  former  speech 
he  retorted  with  some  bitterness.  When  the 
time  came  for  me,  having  secured  the  prom- 
ise that  those  of  the  Eoman  Church  would 
unite  with  us  in  saying  the  Lord's  Prayer 
and  the  Creed,  I  prefaced  the  prayers  by  a 
very  few  words;  saying  I  was  sorry  there 
should  be  any  disagreement  about  giving 
credit  for  the  blessing  of  religious  liberty. 
I  did  not  think  it  belonged  exclusively  to  any 
one  Church  or  denomination.  If  the 
Eoman  Church  might  rightly  claim  some 


150  REMINISCENCES 

part  in  it,  so  could  the  Quakers  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, and  the  Baptists  in  Rhode  Island. 
And  it  should  be  remembered  that  if  the 
Maryland  Charter  ensuring  such  liberty  was 
given  to  a  Roman  Catholic  nobleman,  it  was 
given  ly  an  Anglo-Catholic  king.  And 
granting  all  that  might  be  said  about  the 
noble  Christian  character  of  Calvert,  it 
should  be  remembered  that  that  character 
was  formed  in  the  Church  of  England, 
where  he  was  baptized,  taught  and  con- 
firmed. 


THE    DIVISION    OF    THE    DIOCESE 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  DIVISION  OF  THE  DIOCESE 

The  time  came  when  the  Diocese  of  Mary- 
land had  grown  too  large  for  the  labors  of 
one  bishop,  and  I  asked  for  a  division  which 
would  make  the  important  City  of  Washing- 
ton a  Bishop's  See.  But  I  made  it  a  condi- 
tion that  each  of  the  two  Dioceses  should 
raise  $50,000,  as  an  endowment  to  avoid  bur- 
dening the  parishes  with  taxation.  Wash- 
ington promptly  did  its  part,  but  Baltimore 
did  not.  The  Committee  appointed,  at  first 
very  sanguine  of  success,  at  last  reported  to 
me  that  they  could  raise  only  $20,000 ;  and  as 
the  only  hope,  they  asked  that  at  a  certain 
business  office  I  would  meet  twenty  or  thirty 
of  the  leading  Churchmen  and  try  to  urge 
them.  I  named  Thursday,  at  2  p.  m.9  On 
Tuesday  I  sat  in  my  office,  somewhat  de- 
spondent, and  feeling  that  I  was  going  to  de- 

»  March,  1895. 


154  KEMINISCENCES 

feat,  when,  most  unexpectedly,  I  heard  that 
by  the  death  of  Eversfield  F.  Keerl,  which 
had  occurred  that  day,  the  sum  of  $90,000, 
held  in  trust  by  a  firm  of  New  York  bankers, 
would  fall  unconditionally  to  the  Diocese  of 
Maryland. 

The  burial  was  to  be  on  Thursday  at  two 
o'clock,  the  hour  I  had  named  for  meeting 
the  laymen.  But  not  waiting  for  that,  I  tel- 
egraphed for  information  to  the  New  York 
bankers,  saying  that  an  answer  was  imper- 
atively needed  before  noon  of  Thursday. 
At  noon  on  Thursday,  no  answer  as  yet.  At 
one,  no  answer.  At  one-thirty,  no  answer. 
At  two  o'clock  a  message,  "We  hold  in  trust 
for  the  Diocese  of  Maryland,  at  par  values 
$97,500."  Taking  that  and  the  extract 
from  the  will  I  had  secured,  I  had  just  time 
to  meet  my  appointment  with  the  laymen ;  a 
coincidence  of  time  to  the  minute.  Asking 
them  to  speak  first,  one  of  the  bankers  told 
me  of  the  panic  which  made  people  slow  to 
give  money.  Another  talked  about  their 
disapproval  of  endowments.  Then  I  said 
something  like  this:  "Well,  gentlemen,  this 
is  the  only  instance  in  which  there  seems  to 


KEMINISCENCES  155 

be  a  disagreement  between  the  laymen  and 
myself.  It  shall  not  make  any  trouble.  If 
you  will  not  yield  to  me,  I  will  cheerfully 
yield  to  you.  But  last  week  there  were  only 
two  parties  to  this  question.  Now  a  third 
one  has  come  in.  That  one  is  God.  You  do 
not  believe  in  endowments;  He  does.  You 
say  it  is  impossible  to  raise  it.  Things  im- 
possible to  men  are  possible  with  God;  and 
He  has  provided  it.  I  showed  the  two  pa- 
pers, the  extract  from  the  Will,  and  the 
bankers'  telegram,  and  they  agreed  that  the 
Diocese  should  be  divided. 

Then  came  another  wonderful  coincidence. 
The  New  York  bankers  wrote  me  a  few  days 
later  that  the  market  value  of  the  fund  was 
$101,000.  And  out  of  this  my  legal  advisers 
estimated  there  would  be  about  $5,000  for 
commissions  and  other  expenses.  At  my 
meeting  with  the  laymen  one  of  them  showed 
that  instead  of  $50,000,  we  would  need  $64,- 
000  to  make  up  for  our  loss  in  annual  income 
by  the  going  off  of  the  new  Diocese.  Now  at 
our  next  Convention,  it  was  voted  that  we 
would  give  to  the  New  Diocese  one-third  of 
all  our  invested  funds  up  to  the  time  of  its 


156  REMINISCENCES 

full  establishment.  From  $101,000,  take 
$5,000,  and  we  have  $96,000,  of  which  one- 
third  would  go  to  Washington  and  two- 
thirds  remain  with  us.  And  two-thirds  of 
$96,000  would  be  $64,000,  the  exact  amount 
we  needed.  These  coincidences,  in  time,  to 
the  minute,  and  in  money  to  the  dollar,  are 
so  wonderful  that  it  would  be  hard  to  doubt 
that  it  was  God's  will  that  the  Diocese  should 
be  divided. 


THE   DIVISION   OF   THE   DIOCESE 

(Continued) 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  DIVISION  OF  THE  DIOCESE,  CONTINUED 

I  have  found  it  impossible,  in  noting  these 
remembrances,  to  keep  to  anything  like 
chronological  order ;  and  I  must  group  with- 
out order  of  time,  some  matters  not  yet  fully 
touched  upon.  I  have  alluded  too  briefly  to 
some  things  connected  with  the  division  of 
the  Diocese.  When  I  was  consecrated  as 
Bishop,  January  8,  1885,  the  Diocese  of 
Maryland  included  both  all  of  Maryland 
west  of  the  Chesapeake  Bay,  and  also  the 
District  of  Columbia,  including  the  City  of 
Washington.  It  had  162  clergymen,  130 
fully  organized  parishes  or  congregations, 
and  10  mission  stations  and  chapels. 

Although  the  Canons  do  not  require  that 
the  Bishop  should  visit  all  oftener  than 
once  in  three  years ;  yet  the  very  long  inter- 
regnum in  the  bishopric  seemed  to  call  for 
something  more,  and  I  began  by  making  a 


160  REMINISCENCES 

complete  round  of  the  Diocese  every  year. 
For  many  years,  being  then  in  full  bodily 
strength,  I  was  able  to  do  this,  and  I  found  it 
a  pleasure.  It  brought  me  into  closer  rela- 
tions with  all  the  parishes  and  their  people, 
and  quickened  my  own  interest,  and  helped 
me  to  develop  plans  for  work.  The  Church 
life  quickly  responded  to  my  efforts.  The 
numbers  confirmed  were  large ;  the  number 
of  communicants  grew  steadily.  In  1885 
there  were  reported  22,104  communicants; 
in  1894  the  number  was  29,918. 

A  full  visitation  of  the  Diocese  required 
that  the  Bishop  should  be  absent  from  his 
home  for  nearly  three-fourths  of  the  time ;  so 
that  there  was  scant  opportunity  for  study 
and  deliberate  thought.  Besides,  with  each 
year  added  to  my  age  my  bodily  strength 
became  less,  and  I  was  convinced  that  the 
measure  of  work  with  which  I  began  could 
not  much  longer  be  maintained.  Two  ways 
of  solving  the  problem  presented  themselves 
to  me.  One  was  the  lessening  of  my  visita- 
tions; making  them  once  in  two  years.  I 
sent  out  a  letter  of  inquiry  to  the  clergy  in 
the  rural  parishes,  suggesting  that  change, 


KEMINISCENCES  161 

and  asking  their  advice  and  wishes ;  whether 
they  counted  an  annual  visitation  a  neces- 
sity; whether  my  coming  less  frequently 
would  harm  their  work  and  make  the  num- 
bers confirmed  smaller.  From  more  than 
half  the  answer  was  that  while  the  Bishop's 
visit  was  a  pleasure  and  a  stimulus  to  clergy 
and  people,  they  would  not  really  suffer  by 
having  him  come  once  in  two  years.  And 
yet  quite  a  number  seemed  to  think  the  more 
frequent  visitations  would  be  much  more 
helpful. 

I  turned  then  to  the  other  plan,  the  di- 
vision of  the  Diocese.  But  before  making 
any  decision  of  my  own,  I  again  tried  to  find 
the  judgment  and  wish  of  the  Diocese  at 
large.  The  general  impression  was  in  favor 
of  division,  if  the  money  problem  could  be 
met  (in  the  support  of  two  bishops  and  two 
full  working  organizations  instead  of  one). 
Besides,  it  was  felt  that  the  City  of  Wash- 
ington, large  in  itself  and  important  as  the 
Capital  of  the  Nation  ought  to  have  its  own 
resident  bishop.  Several  years  passed  after 
the  first  suggestion  before  it  took  shape  in  a 
definite  proposal  in  my  address  to  the  Dio- 


162  REMINISCENCES 

cesan  Convention.  There  was  some  slight 
opposition,  but  after  very  full  discussion  it 
was  determined  by  an  almost  unanimous 
vote,  that  a  division  should  be  made. 

But  on  what  lines?  Some  of  the  clergy 
and  people  of  Washington  wanted  that  that 
City,  by  itself  alone,  should  form  the  Dio- 
cese. But  the  feeling  was  strong  that  both 
for  its  own  sake  and  larger  life,  and  for  the 
help  of  the  weaker  country  parts,  it  should 
have  some  work  and  sympathy  for  those  be- 
yond. Others  proposed  the  Patuxent  River 
as  the  dividing  line,  but  the  final  agreement 
was  to  give  to  the  new  Diocese,  just  the  ter- 
ritory included  in  what  had  been  known  as 
the  Convocation  of  Washington. 

One  of  the  very  pleasant  things  in  this  di- 
vision was  the  loving  spirit  shown  through- 
out, and  especially  in  the  resolution  unani- 
mously passed,  that  we  should  give  to  the 
new  Diocese,  which  took  less  than  one-third 
of  the  territory,  one-third  of  all  our  invested 
funds  up  to  the  day  of  the  organization  of 
that  Diocese.  It  was  an  act  of  loving  lib- 
erality never  equaled,  before  or  since,  in  any 
such  separation.    The  mother  Diocese  sent 


REMINISCENCES  163 

out  its  daughter,  not  weak,  but  richly  en- 
dowed; having,  with  its  own  contributions, 
an  endowment  for  its  Episcopal  fund  much 
larger  than  that  of  the  mother  Diocese. 


THE    CHURCH'S    WORK    FOR    THE 

MASSES 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  CHURCH'S  WORK  FOR  THE  MASSES 

Among  the  noteworthy  things,  during  my 
many  years  of  work  in  the  holy  ministry, 
were  the  practical  proofs  in  refutation  of  a 
popular  charge  against  us,  that  the  Church  is 
for  the  more  intelligent  and  refined,  and  not 
for  what  are  called  the  masses  and  the  poor. 
A  few  instances  out  of  many  may  be  given. 

The  village  of  Alberton,  about  an  hour's 
ride  by  railroad  out  of  Baltimore,  is  strictly 
a  manufacturing  village.  All  the  property 
of  every  kind,  is  owned  by  the  proprietors  of 
the  cotton  mills.  Nearly  all  the  inhabitants 
are  either  laborers  or  officers  in  the  mills. 
Thinking  that  among  them  there  must  be 
many  English  families,  I  tried  to  make  some 
provision  for  their  spiritual  needs.  I  sent 
a  young  man  whose  enthusiasm  soon  found 
a  way  to  their  hearts.  Many  children  and 
some  adults  were  baptized,  and  a  helpful 
Sunday  School  was  established  in  a  room  of 


168  REMINISCENCES 

the  factory  buildings.  After  a  year  of  such 
work,  the  two  chief  proprietors,  father  and 
son,  neither  of  whom  I  had  ever  met,  called 
on  me  with  a  proposal.  They  said  that  they 
felt  their  responsibility  for  the  welfare  of 
their  laborers,  and  they  included  in  that 
their  spiritual  welfare.  To  help  to  that  they 
had,  several  years  before,  built  a  good  church 
which  had  been  used  by  different  Christian 
bodies.  "But  now  we  propose,  if  we  can 
agree  as  to  the  conditions,  to  build  a  good 
stone  church,  with  a  Sunday  School  room, 
to  furnish  it,  to  heat  and  light  it  from  our 
factories,  and  to  put  it,  without  any  charge 
whatever,  under  your  care. ' ' 

The  conditions  were  favorable  and  ac- 
cepted. The  church  was  built,  and  now  for 
many  years  a  minister  of  the  Church  has 
been  in  residence  and  doing  pastoral  work. 

A  second  instance.  Hampden,  another 
suburb  of  Baltimore,  is  occupied  almost  en- 
tirely by  the  people  of  the  large  foundries, 
and  of  the  cotton  mills.  A  new  rector  had 
just  gone  to  take  charge  of  St.  Mary's 
Church  and  soon  became  acquainted  with 
the  head  of  the  foundry  works,  a  generous 


REMINISCENCES  169 

man,  and  an  ardent  Methodist.  This  gen- 
tleman, however,  was  skeptical  as  to  the 
Church's  ability  to  work  successfully  among 
the  laboring  classes,  and  for  sometime  held 
aloof.  But  after  a  year  had  passed,  the 
positive  and  kindly  work  of  the  rector 
proved  successful.  The  church,  of  stone, 
seating  about  300,  was  soon  filled  to  over- 
flowing; and  the  head  of  the  works  asked 
the  rector  to  call  again.  He  said,  "  Per- 
haps I  was  mistaken  in  what  I  said  before  to 
discourage  you.  They  tell  me  you  are 
reaching  our  people,  that  your  church  is 
always  full  and  not  large  enough;  and  that 
you  need  and  want  a  larger  one.  How  large 
do  you  want  it?"  The  answer  was,  "A 
church  to  seat  a  thousand." 

"Can  that  church  be  enlarged"?" 

The  clergyman  said  he  was  himself  a  prac- 
tical architect,  and  it  could  be  enlarged  at  a 
cost  of  fifteen  thousand  dollars. 

"If  I  give  you  ten  thousand,  can  you  raise 
the  rest?" 

The  clergyman  said  he  could;  the  money 
was  given  and  the  church  enlarged  to  hold 
one  thousand. 


THE  MARYLAND  THEOLOGICAL 
CLASS 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  MARYLAND  THEOLOGICAL  CLASS 

One  of  the  happinesses  of  my  Episcopate 
I  found  in  my  "Maryland  Class  of  Theol- 
ogy. ' '  I  had  become  dissatisfied  with  the  in- 
fluences of  the  theological  seminaries.  If 
I  sent  students  to  the  General  Seminary  in 
New  York,  and  any  of  them  proved  really 
good,  they  were  stolen  from  me  by  some  of 
the  New  York  churches  which  could  offer 
them  things  more  attractive  than  they  could 
find  in  Maryland.  Or  if  they  came  back  to 
me,  I  found  they  had  become  used  to  ways 
and  associations  of  city  life  and  work,  and 
were  not  fitted  for  the  harder  and  heavier 
work  needed  in  our  country  parishes.  And 
remembering  the  great  advantages  to  myself, 
as  a  student,  in  the  close  association  with  my 
own  Bishop  De  Lancey,  I  determined  that  I 
must  have  for  my  candidates  Maryland  men, 
trained  in  Maryland,  and  for  Maryland,  and 


174  REMINISCENCES 

under  my  own  personal  influence  and  watch- 
fulness. Some  six  well  qualified  clergymen 
of  the  Diocese  promised  and  gave  me  their 
help.  We  began  with  eight  or  nine  young 
men.  The  place  for  lectures  was  in  my  res- 
idence, or  the  Library  adjoining.  And  I 
was  more  than  satisfied  with  the  results.10 
The  small  number  of  students  permitted  each 
to  be  brought  into  closer  touch  with  the  in- 
structors. 

During  the  few  years  for  which  I  was  able 
to  continue  the  School  it  prepared  about 
twenty  young  men  for  their  holy  duties. 
With  perhaps  only  two  exceptions,  all 
proved  eminently  useful,  and  two  or  three 
of  them  went  on  to  reach  remarkable  schol- 
arship. But  when  the  Diocese  of  Washing- 
ton was  set  off  from  Maryland,  it  took  not 
only  one-half  or  more  of  the  money  which  I 
was  able  to  use  for  the  School,  but  more  than 
half  of  my  supply  of  young  men ;  and  I  was 
most  reluctantly  compelled  to  close  the 
work. 

10  Bishop  Paret's  motto  to  the  members  of  his  Theological 
Class  in  regard  to  preaching  was:  "First, — be  sure  you 
have  something  to  say.  Second,  be  sure  you  know  how  to 
say  it.     Third,  say  it.     Fourth,  stop'  " 


,t  " 


REMINISCENCES  175 

Needing  a  teacher  in  Hebrew  for  my 
class,  Rabbi  Szold,  one  of  the  oldest  and 
most  respected  of  the  Rabbis,  offered  him- 
self. I  protested  that  he  was  too  eminent  a 
man,  and  I  had  so  little  money  to  offer  that 
I  was  sure  he  would  not  accept  it.  He  an- 
swered that  he  did  not  want,  and  would  not 
take,  a  dollar.  He  was  " Rabbi  emeritus;" 
laid  on  the  shelf,  because  of  age,  and  with 
nothing  to  do,  and  meeting  with  some 
young  bright  minds  two  or  three  times  a 
week  would  be  a  help  and  pleasure  to  him. 
At  his  request  I  was  present  at  some  of  his 
lessons.  At  the  first  he  asked  where  he 
should  begin,  and  I  said  I  supposed  with  the 
Alphabet  and  the  Grammar.  But  he  said, 
"No,  begin  with  something  from  the  Bible.' ' 
We  took  the  23rd  Psalm.  Opening  the 
books  for  the  young  men,  I  offered  the  book 
to  him,  but  he  said  that  he  did  not  need  it. 
And  from  memory  he  went  through  it,  teach- 
ing the  Alphabet  as  he  went, — giving  every 
letter  and  every  vowel  point.  Then  he  did 
it  again,  and  gave  a  beautiful  (Jewish)  ex- 
position. 

At  the  next  lesson,  again  he  asked  me  to 


176  BEMINISCENCES 

name  the  passage,  and  I  suggested  the  9th 
Chapter  of  Genesis,  and  offered  him  the 
book.  But  he  said  he  did  not  need  it ;  and 
as  accurately  as  before,  he  repeated  twenty 
verses,  word  by  wTord,  and  letter  by  letter. 

At  the  third  lesson,  I  named  one  of  the 
very  dry  chapters  in  the  Book  of  Chronicles ; 
and  again  he  declined  to  take  a  book.  When 
that  lesson  was  ended,  I  asked, — "Babbi, 
how  much  of  that  Old  Testament  do  you 
know  in  this  way?"  Pointing  to  his  head, 
he  said,  "Prom  the  first  verse  of  Genesis,  to 
the  last  of  Malachi,  it  is  all  there."  And  as 
I  said  it  was  almost  incredible,  he  told  me  to 
try  him;  to  open  the  book  anywhere,  and 
read  two  or  three  verses.  I  opened  at  ran- 
dom, somewhere  in  the  Book  of  Kings,  and 
when  I  stopped  reading,  he  took  it  up  and 
went  on  without  a  mistake.  The  trial  was 
made  four  times  and  he  never  faltered.  He 
said,  "It  is  not  so  wonderful ;  I  am  more  than 
80  years  old, — and  that  Book  has  been  the 
Book  and  the  wTork  of  all  my  life."  When 
all  his  teaching  was  ended,  I  offered  him 
$200,  but  he  absolutely  refused  to  take  it; 
and  all  I  could  do  was  to  get  from  England 


EEMINISCENCBS  177 

three  or  four  rare  volumes  which  he  prized. 

The  money  for  the  expenses  of  my  Theo- 
logical Class  came  in  one  of  the  remarkable 
ways  which  I  must  call  Providential.  The 
widow  of  a  clergyman  of  "Washington  had 
asked  my  help  in  selling  her  husband's  li- 
brary. It  was  a  large  and  a  very  valuable 
one ;  but  she  wanted  to  keep  it  together,  and 
not  break  it  up  by  sale  at  auction.  She 
would  gladly  let  it  go  for  $500.  I  told  her 
that  King  Hall,  our  school  for  training  col- 
ored men  for  the  Ministry,  had  no  library, 
and  it  would  be  very  useful  there;  and  I 
thought  that  for  that  use  I  might  raise  the 
money. 

Now  among  my  own  former  parishioners 
in  the  Church  of  the  Epiphany,  there  was  a 
lady,  a  very  earnest  Christian,  very  rich  and 
very  generous.  And  she  had  told  me  to  call 
on  her  for  help  when  there  was  anything  im- 
portant. This,  however,  was  the  first,  and 
only  occasion  of  my  doing  so.  I  wrote  to 
her,  stating  the  case,  and  my  hope  that  she 
might  be  able  and  willing  to  make  the  gift. 
But  the  very  next  day  there  appeared  in  my 
study  three  clergymen,  warm  friends  of  the 


178  KEMINISCENCES 

Theological  Seminary  near  Alexandria,  who 
protested  that  I  was  interfering  with  their 
efforts ;  that  the  son  of  the  deceased  clergy- 
man had  offered  the  library  to  them  for 
$500,  and  they  had  raised  half  that  amount, 
and  they  learned  that  I  was  now  trying  to 
get  the  books.  I  explained  my  position  and 
my  action,  said  I  would  not  interfere  with 
them,  that  I  preferred  that  the  library  should 
go  to  Virginia,  especially  as  its  theological 
tone  was  such  as  Virginia  much  needed.  I 
added  my  own  subscription  to  their  list,  and 
telegraphed  my  friend  in  Washington,  that  I 
withdrew  my  request  and  would  write  in  ex- 
planation. 

The  next  day  came  a  letter  from  that 
friend,  enclosing  a  check  for  $500,  and  say- 
ing she  was  just  signing  it  wrhen  my  message 
arrived,  and  she  would  not  take  it  back.  I 
must  keep  it,  if  not  for  the  use  I  had  named, 
then  for  my  own  work  in  theological  educa- 
tion, or  for  anything  else  I  thought  impor- 
tant; and,  if  she  lived,  she  would  repeat  it 
on  the  first  day  of  September  for  five  years. 
After  the  five  years,  she  passed  me  in  her 
carriage  as  I  was  walking,  and  asked  me  to 


EEMINISCENCES  179 

ride  with  her.  I  thanked  her  for  what  she 
had  done  in  those  five  years,  and  told  her 
how  many  men  it  had  helped  into  the  Min- 
istry. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "the  five  years  are  ended, 
but  my  life  still  lasts,  and  my  prosperity, 
and  so  long  as  God  continues  them,  you  shall 
have  that  money  every  year."  She  lived 
some  four  years  longer.  And  her  generous 
help  it  was,  that  enabled  me  to  keep  up  the 
Maryland  Class  in  Theology. 


AT  THE  LAMBETH  CONFERENCES 


CHAPTER  XIII 

AT  THE  LAMBETH  CONFEEENCES 

As  Bishop  of  Maryland,  I  attended  two 
sessions  of  the  Lambeth  Conference,  held  at 
the  Palace  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury ; 
all  the  Bishops  of  the  Anglican  Communion, 
English,  Colonial,  Missionary,  Scotch,  Irish, 
American,  having  right  to  attend.  The  first 
time  was  in  the  year  1888, — Archbishop  Ben- 
son, presiding.  The  session  lasted  almost 
through  the  whole  month  of  July,  and 
brought  me  into  very  near  and  pleasant  re- 
lations with  many  of  the  English  Bishops. 
There  were  some  incidents  worth  recording. 
At  the  session  of  1888,  I  was  one  of  the  two 
who  had  been  appointed  sometime  before  to 
make  one  of  the  opening  speeches  in  the  full 
meeting,  on  the  subject  of  Divorce.  The 
hour  had  been  named  to  me  as  on  the  morn- 
ing of  July  2nd.  But  when  the  time  came, 
there  were  some  serious  matters  occupying 


184  KEMINISCENCES 

attention,  and  the  Archbishop  asked  me  to 
wait  till  afternoon.  The  appointed  after- 
noon hour  came,  and  my  address  was  again 
postponed.  On  the  third  day  of  the  month, 
again  I  was  told  to  wait  until  the  next  day. 
On  that  day,  at  about  3  p.  m.  the  Archbishop 
called  for  my  address.  I  went  forward,  not 
to  make  it,  but  to  offer  a  protest.  I  said  that 
if  my  address  was  worth  making,  it  was 
worth  hearing,  and  at  that  very  late  hour, 
after  the  usual  time  of  adjournment,  I  saw 
that  there  were  not  more  than  one-third  of 
the  English  Bishops  present,  and  of  the 
American  Bishops  only  two.  I  asked,  there- 
fore, that  I  might  be  permitted  to  make  my 
address  on  the  morning  of  the  next  day,  July 
5th,  to  a  fuller  house. 

The  Archbishop  and  his  Assessors  (the 
other  Archbishops  and  Metropolitans)  put 
their  heads  together,  and  the  Archbishop 
said  he  could  not  grant  my  request,  I  must 
speak  then.  I  was  about  to  decline  to  speak 
at  all,  when  Bishop  Seymour  of  Springfield 
arose,  and  walking  forward  in  his  usual  bold 
manner,  said,  "Your  Grace,  the  Bishop  of 
Maryland  has  said  there  are  only  two  Amer- 


KEMINISCENCES  185 

ican  Bishops  present.  In  another  minute, 
there  will  be  only  one,  that  is  himself.  You, 
sir,  as  an  Englishman,  have  perhaps  forgot- 
ten what  we  as  Americans  love  to  remember, 
that  this  fourth  day  of  July  is  the  birthday 
of  our  national  freedom  and  independence ; 
and  we  count  it  our  duty  to  go  to-day  and 
pay  our  respects  to  the  United  States  Min- 
ister who  represents  our  Nation  in  this  coun- 
try.   Good  day,  Sir." 

And  out  he  went.  It  was  somewhat  as  if 
a  thunderbolt  had  fallen.  The  Archbishop 
started,  recovered  himself,  smiled,  and  said, 
6 '  I  cannot  resist  that  appeal.  The  Bishop  of 
Maryland  may  speak  to-morrow  morning." 

An  occasional  sparkle  of  wit  sometimes 
enlivened  an  otherwise  dull  morning.  The 
Bishop  of  Haiti  sent  word  that  he  could  not 
be  present  because  a  great  fire  had  swept  his 
city,  destroyed  nearly  all  the  churches  and 
the  church  property,  including  his  own 
house,  all  his  manuscripts  and  his  library. 
In  the  sympathy  which  was  at  once  ex- 
pressed, one  of  the  English  Bishops  pro- 
posed that  as  a  beginning  of  a  new  library, 
each  bishop   should  give  a  book;   and  he 


186  REMINISCENCES 

would  see  that  all  such  gifts  should  reach  the 
Bishop  of  Haiti,  without  any  expense  to  him. 

Another  Bishop  opposed  it,  saying  he 
knew  what  the  Bishop 's  new  library  would 
be;  five  or  six  copies  of  Home's  " Introduc- 
tion,' '  as  many  of  " Pearson  on  the  Creed," 
and  of  "Paley's  Evidences"  and  the  like; 
books  of  which  the  giver  would  gladly  get 
rid.  "No,"  he  said,  "instead  of  a  book,  let 
each  send  him  a  pound. ' ' 

"I  agree,"  said  the  original  proposer. 
"It  is  only  the  change  of  a  letter.  Instead 
of  Da  librum,  it  is  Da  libram. ' ' 

At  one  of  the  Lambeth  Conferences,  my 
wife  had  accompanied  me  to  London,  under 
peculiar  circumstances.  Her  brother  had 
been  killed,  a  little  while  before,  in  an 
elevator  accident.  She  was  in  deep  sorrow, 
much  broken,  and  the  physicians  insisted,  as 
the  best  hope  that  she  should  take  the  voyage 
with  me.  But  she  consented  only  on  the  con- 
dition that  she  should  not  make  any  social 
visits  or  the  like,  and  that  to  insure  it,  I 
would  avoid  all  such  for  myself. 

As  the  Conference  was  about  ending,  the 
last  week  in  July,  the  Bishop  of  Lincoln, 


REMINISCENCES  187 

Bishop  King,  made  a  special  request.    He 
and  I,  having  been  nearest  in  Consecration, 
sat  next  to  each  other  through  the  whole  ses- 
sion, and  walked  side  by  side  in  every  pro- 
cession.   He  said,  most  kindly,  that  he  had 
never  been  for  so  long  a  time  in  close  com- 
panionship with  any  English  Bishop.    We 
had  agreed  in  our  views,  in  our  speeches  and 
in  our  votes,  and  he  was  glad  that  he  knew  me 
so  well.    "Now,  come  and  make  me  a  good 
visit.    I  have  just  sold  the  old  Bishop 's  Pal- 
ace which  was  inconveniently  at  some  dis- 
tance from  the  city;  and  I  have  built  a  new 
one  within  the  Cathedral  grounds.    The  fur- 
niture was  moved  in  only  a  day  or  two  before 
my  coming  to  London.    I  want  you  to  be  my 
very  first  guest."    Gratifying  as  this  invi- 
tation was,  my  promise  to  my  wife  com- 
pelled me  to  decline  it,  even  when  pressed  by 
more  than  one  repetition. 

(I  may  note  here  as  necessary  to  the  full 
understanding  of  the  following  incident,  that 
I  was  one  of  the  four  or  five  American  Bish- 
ops at  the  Conference  who  refused  to  make 
any  change  in  their  usual  costume,  and  de- 
clined even  to  put  on  the  Bishop's  apron.) 


188  REMINISCENCES 

On  our  way  northward  to  York,  where  I 
had  promised  to  make  an  address,  we  were 
compelled  to  rest  at  Lincoln  for  a  day;  but 
I  was  determined  to  keep  out  of  sight  of  the 
Bishop.  The  White  Hart  Inn  could  not  give 
us  rooms,  but  provided  for  us  in  one  of  the 
best  private  dwellings.  I  went  to  the  three 
o  'clock  service  at  the  Cathedral,  and  as  I  was 
going  out  through  the  nave,  someone  asked, 
' 'Is  not  this  the  Bishop  of  Maryland?" 
"Yes,"  I  said,  "but  how  did  you  know  mef 
"I  am  the  Chancellor  of  this  Cathedral,  I 
was  in  London  all  through  July,  and  we  no- 
ticed that  the  same  Bishop  walked  with  our 
Bishop  in  every  procession.  He  told  us  it 
was  the  Bishop  of  Maryland ;  and  he  has  been 
telling  his  great  disappointment  because  you 
were  not  able  to  visit  him.  Come  to  his  room 
in  the  Cathedral  and  see  him."  But  I  ex- 
cused myself  and  returned  to  the  house. 
About  an  hour  later,  the  lady  of  the  house 
was  called  to  speak  to  someone.  It  was  the 
Bishop  of  Lincoln  seeking  me.  But  she  as- 
sured him  there  wTas  some  mistake ;  there  was 
no  bishop  there.  He  went  back  to  the  Inn, 
and  with  their  reassurance  came  again  to 


REMINISCENCES  189 

the  house  asking  for  me.  Again  she  de- 
clared with  great  emphasis  that  there  was  no 
bishop  there. 

"Is  there  anyone  here  from  the  White 
Hart  Inn?" 

"Yes." 

"A  gentleman  and  two  ladies?" 

"Yes." 

"It  is  a  clergyman?" 

"Perhaps  so." 

"I  think  it  is  the  Bishop  of  Maryland." 

"Oh,  no,  my  Lord,  I  assure  you  it  is  a  mis- 
take." 

"Well,  it  will  do  no  harm ;  please  show  him 
my  card. ' ' 

She  came  to  me  smiling,  as  if  having  a 
good  joke,  and  said,  "The  Lord  Bishop  of 
Lincoln  is  downstairs, — and  he  thinks  that 
you  are  the  Bishop  of  Maryland." 

"And  so  I  am,"  I  answered. 

And  with  clasped  hands,  and  a  look  of  en- 
treaty, she  said,  "Oh,  my  Lord,  pray  forgive 
me.  You  know  there  is  nothing  about  you 
that  looks  like  a  bishop !" 

My  wife,  overhearing  it,  said,  "Now  I 
hope  you  will  wear  an  apron." 


190  REMINISCENCES 

"No,"  I  answered,  "I  will  not  be  a  tailor- 
made  bishop.  If  it  takes  a  tailor  to  make 
me  look  like  one,  I  will  not  look  like  one,  as 
long  as  I  live.  I  came  over  American,  I  re- 
main American,  and  I  will  go  back  Amer- 
ican. ' 9 

At  another  time  I  wanted  to  see  the  Ca- 
thedral at  Chester.  Calling  first  at  the 
Bishop's  house,  I  was  told  he  was  not  at 
home.  I  left  a  card,  and  went  to  the  resi- 
dence of  the  Dean.  He  also  was  out  of  the 
city,  and  I  went  to  the  Cathedral.  At  the 
entrance  the  verger  met  me,  and  in  answer 
to  my  request  for  admittance  told  me  it  wTas 
impossible, — that  no  one  could  be  admitted 
that  day.  I  said  that  I  was  from  across  the 
ocean,  and  was  a  bishop, — and  it  would  be 
my  only  opportunity  to  see  the  Cathedral. 
He  expressed  very  politely  his  regret,  but 
said  that  his  orders  were  absolute,  that  wTork 
and  repairs  were  going  on  within,  which 
anyone's  presence  would  interrupt,  that  he 
would  risk  losing  his  place  if  he  violated  his 
orders.  "Why  our  own  Bishop  could  not 
get  in  to-day.  No  one  in  England  could. 
The  King  could  not." 


EEMINISCENCES  191 

So,  yielding,  I  said  I  wanted  the  Bishop 
and  the  Dean  to  know  that  I  had  been  there. 
I  had  left  cards  at  their  houses,  but  to  make 
sure,  I  would  leave  one  with  him,  and  asked 
him  to  give  it  to  them.  The  card  had  not 
only  my  name,  but  my  title  also.  As  soon 
as  he  read  it,  he  said,  "Are  you  the  Bishop 
of  Maryland?  If  so,  come  in.  But  you  are 
the  only  man  in  England  who  can  come  in 
to-day. ' ' 

In  answer  to  my  question,  "Why?"  he 
said,  "I  will  show  you."  And  stopping 
four  or  five  workmen  on  the  way  he  led  me 
to  the  north  transept  of  the  Cathedral,  and 
pointing  to  a  large  bronze  tomb,  with  the  life 
size  image  of  a  bishop,  he  said,  "There  is 
the  reason.  We  owe  that  to  the  Bishop  of 
Maryland,  Bishop  Whittingham.  That  is 
the  tomb  of  Bishop  Pearson  who  wrote  a 
great  book  on  the  Creed.  And  Bishop 
Whittingham  was  so  great  an  admirer  of 
Bishop  Pearson  and  his  book,  that  he  raised 
in  America  the  money  for  this  tomb,  and 
came  over  here  and  found  the  grave  where 
the  Bishop  had  been  buried,  and  had  the 
body  removed  to  this  place.    And  the  Bishop 


192  EEMINISCENCES 

of  Maryland  can  always  get  into  this  Cathe- 
dral." 

Some  three  years  after  the  Lambeth  Cc  i- 
ference,  I  was  again  in  London,  and  in  o  e 
of  the  underground  cars  found  myself  s  ;- 
ting  opposite  and  very  close  to  Bishop  Tem- 
ple, then  Bishop  of  London.  Calling  his 
attention,  I  said,  "You  do  not  recognize  me, 
but  I  recognize  you."  "No,"  he  said, — 
"my  eyesight  has  so  failed  that  I  do  not 
recognize  my  own  brother."  I  was 
about  to  name  myself,  when  he  said, 
— "Don't  tell  me  who  you  are,  I  think  I 
recognize  your  voice."  After  a  little  fur- 
ther conversation,  he  said, — "I  think  you 
are  a  bishop,  and  were  at  the  last  Lambeth 
Conference.  Did  you  make  an  address 
there  as  appointed  on  one  of  the  subjects?" 
I  answered  "Yes."  And  after  a  while  he 
asked,  "Was  it  the  question  of  Divorce?" 
And  when  again  I  said  "Yes,"  he  said, 
"Well,  the  two  speakers  were  the  Bishop  of 
Bombay  and  the  Bishop  of  Maryland.  You 
are  not  Bombay,  you  must  be  Maryland." 
Presently  we  compared  our  two  dioceses. 
Measuring  mine  by  miles  200x60,  he  said, — 


REMINISCENCES  193 

"  What  an  enormous  charge !  I  have  only  a 
part  of  the  whole  of  London,  the  strictly 
legal  part." 

"But,  Bishop  Temple,  how  many  clergy 
have  you?" 

"About  1,300." 

"And  I  have  only  220.  Do  you  person- 
ally know  all  yours?" 

"Not  a  quarter  of  them." 

"But  I  do  know  all  mine,  have  been  in  all 
their  houses,  and  know  their  wives  and  chil- 
dren." 


I 


SOME  THINGS  ACCOMPLISHED 


! 


CHAPTER  XIV 

SOME  THINGS  ACCOMPLISHED 

One  of  the  clergy  recently  asked  what 
things  of  special  importance  had  been 
accomplished  during  my  Episcopate.  I 
turned  the  question  back  upon  him ;  and  he 
named,  besides  the  division  of  the  Diocese, 
first,  the  bringing  back  the  Diocese  to  the 
Prayer  Book  ideal  and  rule  of  the  early 
confirmation  of  children ;  second,  the  higher 
standard  for  the  studies  and  examinations 
of  candidates  for  Holy  Orders;  third,  a 
higher  standard  for  the  support  of  the 
clergy,  and  especially  for  those  who  were 
aged  or  disabled ;  fourth,  the  opening  of  the 
Silent  Churches ;  fifth,  the  Diocesan  Libra- 
ries; sixth,  the  work  of  the  Bishop's  Hun- 
dred Helpers;11  seventh,  the  Washington 

n  "Hundred  Helpers";  an  organization  of  one  hundred 
women  pledged  to  contribute  $5.00  each  to  the  Bishop  when 
notified  of  the  death  of  a  clergyman  leaving  a  widow  insuffi- 
ciently provided  for. 


198  REMINISCENCES 

Cathedral;  eighth,  the  C  ithedral  in  Balti- 
more ;  ninth,  the  disappe^  4ance  of  old  party 
lines  and  bitter  divisic  is  between  high 
Churchmen  and  low  Churchmen. 

I  take  them  in  the  order  thus  named. 

My  first  general  idea  of  the  Bishop's  work 
was  that  which  St.  Paul  gave  to  Titus  as 
Bishop  of  Crete;  "That  thou  shouldst  set  in 
order  the  things  that  are  wanting,  and  or- 
dain elders  in  every  city";  correcting  and 
inspiring  the  Church  life  where  it  needed 
it,  and  providing  pastoral  care  for  all.  And 
I  found,  as  one  of  the  things  needing  cor- 
rection, a  general  usage  of  delaying  Con- 
firmation until  the  sixteenth  or  seventeenth 
year  or  later;  so  that  instead  of  "Children 
brought  to  the  Bishop,"  they  were  almost  or 
quite  adult  persons.  And  the  clergy 
thought  it  a  matter  to  be  mentioned  with 
satisfaction  that  there  was  so  large  a  pro- 
portion of  adults  in  the  classes.  In  one  of 
my  early  rounds  I  preached,  or  made  ad- 
dresses on  that  subject  in  almost  all  the 
churches;  reminding  them  of  the  Prayer 
Book  command  that  "Children  should  be 
brought  so  soon  as  they  are  able  to  learn  the 


KEMINISCENCES  199 

Creed,  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments," and  can  answer  the  other  ques- 
tions in  the  Catechism.  And  soon  I  saw 
the  result  in  the  large  number  of  children 
from  twelve  to  fourteen  years  of  age. 

Out  of  my  work  in  the  Maryland  Class  of 
Theology  came  my  wish  for  a  higher  stand- 
ard of  preparation  for  the  Ministry.  I 
found  that  in  every  seminary  thorough  fa- 
miliarity with  the  English  Bible  was  not 
secured;  and  I  made  that  the  first  requisite. 
I  requested  of  the  Examining  Chaplains  that 
without  being  needlessly  severe,  they  should 
be  thorough,  and  not  pass  any  who  did  not 
fairly  come  up  to  the  right  standard.  I 
soon  found  that  the  candidates  coming  from 
the  seminaries  complained  that  our  exam- 
inations were  more  severe  than  those  to 
which  they  were  accustomed ;  and  that  some 
students,  more  anxious  for  getting  through 
than  for  being  thoroughly  furnished,  tried 
to  evade  our  examinations  by  being  trans- 
ferred to  other  dioceses. 

I  hope  and  pray  that  the  Maryland  stand- 
ards may  not  be  lowered.  I  am  sure  that 
even  though  improved,  they  are  by  no  means 


200  REMINISCENCES 

so  severe  as  those  re  uired  in  the  schools  of 
medicine  and  of  law.  I  look  back  upon  the 
results  in  those  who  during  my  twenty-five 
years  have  been  ordained  in  this  Diocese, 
with  much  satisfaction.  While  there  were 
two  or  three  cases  in  which  their  work  in  the 
Ministry  disappointed  me,  all  the  others 
proved  themselves  "Able  ministers;"  and 
some  of  them  rose  to  eminence. 

At  the  beginning  of  my  Episcopate  the 
salaries  of  the  country  clergy  were  very  low 
indeed,  averaging  only  about  six  hundred 
dollars.  But  kindly  conference  between  the 
Bishop  and  the  vestries  proved  helpful, 
though  there  were  some  troublesome  things. 
For  instance,  when  from  funds  at  my  con- 
trol I  had  added  one  hundred  and  fifty  dol- 
lars to  the  salary  of  one  who  was  receiving 
only  five  hundred  dollars,  the  vestry  seemed 
to  think  that  amount  too  large,  and  at  once 
cut  off  one  hundred  and  fifty  from  the 
amount  they  had  been  paying.  Still,  little 
by  little,  the  general  standard  was  raised; 
and  now  the  Convention  has  by  vote  named 
one  thousand  dollars  as  what  should  be  the 
minimum  for  a  married  priest. 


REMINISCENCES  201 

In  1885,  the  year  of  my  consecration,  the 
largest  sum  paid  in  Maryland  for  the  relief 
of  a  clergyman  aged  or  disabled,  was  three 
hundred  dollars,  but  the  people  of  the 
Church  responded  so  readily  to  our  state- 
ments of  the  need  that  now  we  find  ourselves 
able  to  grant  five  hundred  or  six  hundred 
dollars. 

The  story  of  the  Silent  Churches  is  to  me 
a  very  pleasant  one.  I  found,  in  my  first 
year,  that  there  were  fourteen  churches  in 
the  Diocese,  in  which  for  more  than  a  year 
there  had  been  no  resident  pastor,  and  no 
provision  for  worship  or  for  Sunday  School. 
Preaching  on  the  subject  of  Diocesan  Mis- 
sions, in  one  of  the  larger  churches  in  Wash- 
ington, I  mentioned  that  fact;  and  then, 
with  a  sudden  impulse,  looking  up  from  my 
manuscript,  I  said,  "Do  you  know  that  with 
the  very  little  the  people  themselves  could 
do,  and  what  our  Committee  of  Missions 
could  give,  an  additional  three  hundred  dol- 
lars would  keep  one  of  those  Silent  Churches 
open  for  a  year?  And  when  I  know  that 
some  of  you  spend  more  than  that  on  the 
wages  of  a  single  servant  not  really  needed, 


202  BEMINISCENCES 

or  for  a  single  social  entertainment,  I  won- 
der whether  there  is  not  someone  in  this  con- 
gregation who  covets  the  luxury  of  opening  a 
Silent  Church/' 

Three  days  after  the  rector  of  that 
church  brought  me  a  letter  written  by  a 
lady  who  did  not  give  her  name,  saying  that 
in  her  journey  she  reached  Washington  on 
Saturday,  and,  obeying  her  conscience, 
rested  there  on  Sunday  to  pay  her  duty  to 
God  in  worship ;  that  she  heard  the  Bishop 's 
story  of  the  Silent  Churches,  and  she  cov- 
eted the  luxury  of  keeping  one  of  them 
open.  Three  one  hundred  dollar  bills  were 
enclosed. 

The  next  Sunday  the  rector  read  that  let- 
ter to  his  congregation,  and  suggested  that 
someone  might  follow  the  example.  There 
were  two  responses  of  two  hundred  dollars 
each.  I  told  the  story  in  several  of  our 
stronger  churches,  with  good  result,  and 
asked  for  the  formation  of  a  Guild  or  Soci- 
ety to  help  the  Bishop  in  this  or  in  any  other 
work  for  which  he  should  have  urgent  need. 
The  Bishop's  Guild,  of  women,  was  soon  or- 
ganized.    Its    contributions    for    the    first 


REMINISCENCES  203 

year,  about  twelve  hundred  dollars,  were 
given  to  the  Bishop's  Theological  fund.12 
Since  that  time,  by  the  Bishop's  request,  it 
has  given  to  the  Silent  Church  fund,  a  yearly 
sum  of  nearly  always  one  thousand  dollars. 
The  Maryland  Branch  of  the  Woman's 
Auxiliary  gives  three  hundred  dollars  a  year 
or  more.  And  now  all  the  churches  which  I 
found  closed  have  been  made  vocal  again; 
while  the  fund  is  still  needed  to  keep  them 
and  others  from  relapsing  into  silence. 

I  found  at  my  coming  a  Bishop's  library 
of  about  nine  thousand  very  valuable  vol- 
umes of  doctrinal  and  historical  theology; 
the  gift  of  Bishop  Whittingham,  to  be  (us- 
ing his  own  words)  "for  the  use  of  the 
Bishop  of  Maryland  and  his  successors  for- 
ever." 

It  was  admirable  for  the  use  of  the  Bishop 
and  the  more  studious  of  the  clergy,  but  not 
for  general  use.  It  was  open  to  visitors 
from  ten  till  four  o'clock,  but  only  as  a  li- 
brary for  reference,  and  not  for  circulation. 
Thinking  of  the  clergy  in  the  rural 
churches,  their  few  books,  and  their  distance 

12  This  was  before  the  Diocese  of  Maryland  was  divided. 


204  REMINISCENCES 

from  libraries,  I  began  the  formation  of  a 
lending  department  whose  books  should  be 
lent  to  clergymen  at  their  request,  without 
charge,  we  paying  the  charge  of  sending 
them  (but  not  of  return)  by  express  or  mail. 
This  collection  grew  rapidly  by  gifts  and 
purchases  until  now  our  combined  "Dio- 
cesan Libraries''  number  some  thirty  thou- 
sand volumes,  and  are  proving  themselves 
very  useful. 

As  to  Cathedrals,  I  have  not  been  a 
builder,  but  only  a  beginner,  in  two  cases; 
and  in  both  I  did  not  seek  the  work,  but  it 
sought  me  and  was,  providentially,  made  my 
duty.  About  the  year  1891  the  Rector  of  St. 
John  *s  Church,  Washington,  brought  me  the 
tidings  of  a  gift  offered  for  Cathedral  uses 
in  that  city.  It  was  not  from  a  person  of 
very  great  wealth,  but  from  a  woman,  Miss 
Mann,  who,  by  her  own  work  and  saving, 
had  accumulated  a  little  money.  Invested 
in  real  estate  it  grew.  Being  unmarried  and 
wishing  to  live  plainly,  she  offered  to  give, 
for  the  endowment  of  a  Cathedral  when  it 
should  be  built,  property  worth  about  $80,- 
000  or  more. 


REMINISCENCES  205 

The  laymen  of  Washington  took  up  the 
idea,  subscribed  money  and  received,  largely 
by  gift,  a  valuable  site 13  for  the  Cathedral. 
A  special  act  of  incorporation  was  secured, 
and  statutes  were  framed.  Soon  followed 
a  generous  offer  from  Mrs.  Hearst,  of  $175,- 
000  for  a  building  on  the  Cathedral  grounds 
to  be  known  as  the  Cathedral  School  for 
Girls.14 

On  the  division  of  the  Diocese,  I  passed 
over  the  whole  property  to  the  Bishop  of 
the  new  Diocese.  That  Cathedral  work 
was  the  strongest  influence  for  determining 
my  choice  of  the  Diocese  of  Maryland  in- 
stead of  that  of  Washington.  I  felt  that  I 
did  not  have  the  special  qualities  for  a  Ca- 
thedral builder.  I  knew  that  the  task 
would  be  very  burdensome,  and  that  I  was 
too  old  to  undertake  it,  and  must  leave  it  for 
younger  shoulders. 

In  like  manner  the  beginning  of  a  Cathe- 

is  The   site   of   the   Washington  Cathedral,   known   as   the 

Cathedral  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  is  now  at  Mount  St.  Alban. 
The  foundation  stone  was  laid  on  the  Feast  of  St.  Michael 
and  All  Angels,  1907. 

14  The   Hearst   Cathedral    School  for  Girls   has   since   been 

built,  and  has  become  one  of  the  best  known  and  most  in- 
fluential schools  in  the  Country. 


206  REMINISCENCES 

dral  in  Baltimore  was  not  by  my  suggestion. 
Many  years  before  I  bad  been  asked  whether 
I  wanted  a  Cathedral.  I  said  that  I  did,  if 
I  could  have  it  after  my  own  ideas.  I  did 
not  want  the  five  millions  proposed  for  New 
York,  and  for  Washington.  I  would  be 
content  with  one-third  of  that  sum.  I 
should  want  it  placed  not  in  the  rich  or 
aristocratic  part  of  the  city,  for  the  enjoy- 
ment of  the  wealthy,  but  among  the  poor. 
It  should  be  truly  a  bishop's  church,  under 
his  control.  One-half  of  the  money  should 
be  used  for  buildings,  and  one-half  as  an 
endowment  for  the  support  of  the  work. 
The  seats  must  be  always  free ;  no  pew  rents 
or  pledges,  but  voluntary  offerings  at  every 
service,  which  should  be  used  for  missions 
and  for  charity.  The  ushers  should  be  in- 
structed to  give  the  best  seats  to  the  plainer 
people,  and  to  put  those  in  gay  clothing  fur- 
ther off.  This  idea  of  a  Cathedral  did  not 
meet  the  popular  wish. 

But  when,  through  the  wise  foresight  of 
the  Reverend  E.  B.  Niver,  an  excellent  site 
was  selected,  and  he  proposed  the  matter  to 
me,  I  approved  it,  and  requested  him  to  act. 


REMINISCENCES  207 

By  his  energy,  and  that  of  others,  not  mine, 
the  interest  of  many  laymen  was  secured, 
money  was  contributed,  and  the  work  begun. 
And  again,  being  in  my  84th  year,  I  am  too 
old  to  be  the  leader  in  the  work,  and  I  leave 
it  to  one  who  as  younger  and  more  hopeful 
can  look  forward  to  some  fruition  of  our 
plans.15 

In  the  spring  of  1909,  being  then  in  my 
83rd  year,  I  saw  that  I  could  not  longer  do 
effectively  all  the  work  which  the  Diocese 
needed ;  that  the  interests  of  the  Church,  and 
my  own  health  called  for  some  change;  I 
asked  for  the  election  of  a  Bishop  Coad- 
jutor. It  was  readily  granted,  and  the  con- 
secration accomplished  in  the  fall  of  the 
same  year.16 

And  the  way  in  which  my  dear  Brother, 
Bishop  Murray,  has  entered  on  his  work  has 
most  effectively  relieved  me  from  all  anx- 
ieties, and  from  the  heavier  duties.  It  is 
my  purpose  to  leave  to  him  almost  the  entire 
control,  reserving  to  myself  only  some  points 

is  Bishop  Murray. 

is  September  29th,  1909,  at  the  Church  of  St.  Michael  and 
All  Angels,  Baltimore. 


208  REMINISCENCES 

of  ultimate  decision,  and  such  parts  of  the 
work  as  I  find  myself  able  to  undertake. 

I  am  devoutly  thankful  for  a  long  life 
which  has  been  a  happy  one,  and,  I  hope,  in 
some  measure  a  useful  one.  I  see,  as  I  look 
back,  many  short-comings  and  mistakes  on 
my  part.  And  in  practically  laying  down 
my  task,  it  is  a  happiness  to  me  that  I  can 
leave  to  my  successor  a  Diocese  which, 
though  before  my  election  had  been  torn  by 
bitter  party  dissensions,  now  for  twenty-five 
years  has  been  free  from  them.  And  this  is 
not  as  a  result  of  my  wisdom  and  work,  but 
entirely  through  God's  wise  ordering  and 
love. 

.  A  few  weeks  after  the  Consecration  of  the 
Bishop  Coadjutor,  I  carried  out  my  wish  to 
leave  him  for  a  year  in  control  as  the  Eccle- 
siastical Authority,  so  enabling  him  fully  to 
understand  and  take  up  his  work.  And  on 
the  21st  of  October,  1909,  with  the  approval 
of  the  Standing  Committee  of  the  Diocese,  I 
sailed  for  a  year's  absence  in  Europe,  and  I 
write  these  closing  words  in  the  City  of 
Naples  on  the  13th  day  of  March,  A.  D., 
1910.17 


REMINISCENCES  209 

17  After  leaving  Naples,  Bishop  Paret  and  his  family  spent 
several  months  in  travel  in  Italy,  Switzerland,  Germany,  and 
a  short  time  in  England,  returning  to  Baltimore  the  latter 
part  of  September,  1910.  Mrs.  Paret,  who  had  been  in  failing 
health  for  some  time,  became  much  worse  soon  after  her  re- 
turn, and  after  a  long  illness  died  at  the  Johns  Hopkins  Hos- 
pital in  Baltimore,  January  15th,  1911.  The  Bishop  survived 
her  only  two  days.  Shortly  before  her  death  he  was  taken 
with  pneumonia,  and  passed  peacefully  away  on  the  18th  of 
January,  1911. 


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COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY 


937.765 


BRITTLE  DO  NOT. 
PHOTOCOPY 


